Straydog Saga
by Ori Whitedeer
Summary: When wayward warrior Shandori and her questionable companions accept a job to obtain dragon bones, the group of mercenaries find themselves fighting for their lives, the fate of Azeroth, and enough gold to buy their next ale.
1. Flea 1: The Odd Couple

**Straydog Saga**

**_Flea 1: The Odd Couple_**

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Shandori coughed as the arid sands of the shattered Northern Barrens caught in her throat. Her hacking sounded like a smoker's bad lung but she was loathed to taste tobacco. Since the great cataclysm, the sparse grass that held the land together all but died out in the north where new life bloomed just half a day's travel towards the Thousand Needles. Travelers often found themselves caught in sand storms that rivaled those of the great desert Tanaris. Shandori weakly spat onto the crackled ground as she rested her well-worn sabaton on a large rock on the side of the road. Her dark blue hair, haphazardly bound just before the sandstorm hit, seemed to be coated in a haze of orange. She could feel her lavender skin baking as the noontime sun began to hit its peak.

"I knew we shouldn't have bought those pistons in Tanaris. Can't trust goblins." She spoke with a gruff voice that resembled the landscape. Her companion huffed from beneath their motorbike. As his fel-ravaged fingers worked to find the problem, he was rewarded with a flow of fine sand falling from the engine casing. Had he not been wearing his goggles, his glowing green eyes would have been inundated with debris from the failed engine case.

"Its not the pistons. It's the engine full of sand." He coughed. Christoffel Stingblade did his best to remove the grains but a nagging feeling in his gut suggested that they were stranded. He shuffled out from beneath the motorbike and dusted off his leather garments. Sweat poured down his chiseled brow as he raked back loose strands of soaked black hair. He turned the key and was granted a slight lurch before the sound of wind and Shandori's occasional cursing met his long, pale ears. "Fuck."

"Now what do we do?" Shandori crossed her arms as small beads of sweat ran down her back.

"There's an oasis not far from here. There will be water and shade at the very least." Christoffel sighed as he turned to look at the first bike he'd ever bought since he began his new life as a wandering rogue. He would have to abandon it to the sands. He bowed his head for a moment before returning his attention to his scowling travel partner.

"And your horde buddies and centaurs and Elune knows what else. I'd rather not."

"Well its either posing as my slave again in the shade or five more hours in the sun. Take your pick." Christoffel opened the carrier hatch on the back of the motorbike and began packing their valuables and supplies. Though their coin purses were lighter than they would have liked, they were rich in dried fruits, cured meats, medical supplies, water, and dwarven grog. The strange pair left the road with their provisions and walked towards the supposed oasis. Shandori had her doubts but after a few minutes the tropical trees did appear just as her heavy plate armor began to weigh on her strong but exhausted frame. Their last few steps were the quickest as they found an agreeable spot along one of the pool's banks to set up camp. The sun, though starting its decline, was still an imposing presence. They opened one of the sacks of dried fruit and canteens and began plotting their next move.

"How far do you think we are from Ratchet?" Shandori sighed as she pealed the plate armor from her soaked undershirt.

"Not far normally, but too far in this heat. We should wait until nightfall. I trust you can spot anything sneaking around if we run into trouble." He raised his slowly nodded as she turned to the inviting pool. She inwardly cursed at her inability to swim but that did not stop her from cupping the cool water and letting it fall on her dusty brow.

"Glad these eyes are good for something. How far a trip from Ratchet to Booty Bay?"

"If we're able to get on a passenger ship, a few weeks. But I have an associate in Ratchet who owes me a few favors. If your payment is right I can have you in Booty Bay in a few days." Christoffel had no moral reservations about helping what should have been his enemy at birth. Money seemed to follow the night elf known only as "Shandori", and their working relationship proved most profitable. Her warrior spirit and destructive talents got their jobs done four times as fast as the rogue could have mustered alone. And though he did have to share his commissions, the side rewards tended to make up the difference.

"Screw you demon sucker, I've made you plenty of money on the last job. If I land this big gig in Booty Bay we'll both be set for another year." Shandori nodded. It took much self control not to lick her lips at the prospect. Money was the only worshiped deity in Shandori's life and she was about to prey harder than even the most devout to her new employer's payroll.

"So what exactly have you gotten us into now?"

"Not really sure. I got the tip off while I was in Desolace waiting on your ass. While you were busy buying crap in Thunderbluff, I was drumming up work. Someone left a notice on one of the tag boards; they needed some muscle on a big job. Luckily the one who posted it was still in town. I got to talking with him and he told me to meet him and some others on the job at Booty Bay. He gave us a forward on the cash, which I already spent, but let me say it was a pretty haul. I needed some new armor and I still have some gold left over." Shandori spoke with her shoulders and face held high. Christoffel shook his head.

"Buying armor from vendors…"

"What? I was lazy and I didn't feel like hammering out a new breastplate…" Shandori tensed at the sound of a cracking twig. Suddenly the air around them seemed to drain away. The beads of sweat on the back of their necks seemed to rise. Their muscles tensed for a moment, and like a well-coiled trap, they sprung to their feet. Rough-hewn arrows darted from between the crisp leaves. Shandori narrowly dodged one of the projectiles as Christoffel cut through them with his fel-imbued daggers. From the foliage came the haggard, growing faces of a centaur hunting party. They came, furry bodies covered in dirt and dust, hoping to find their own respite from the heat. They instead found seemingly easy prey as thoughts of crisp elf meat made their stomachs growl. The male centaur stowed their bows and unsheathed crude looking but very sharp knives. The one female among them, a magician, began concentrating. Shandori rushed to grab her two great swords. They were heavy but she was strong and managed to cut through one of the centaur's legs, sending him to the ground. The pair were too occupied with the slashing males to look up and see a localized thunderstorm above them. It wasn't until the sound of thunder rung in their ears did they find a moment to spare to spot the spectacle.

"Look out!" Shandori grimaced and with one great lung, sent both her and her adversary careening out of the way of a vicious thunderbolt. Christoffel nimbly avoided the lightning only to be sliced in the arm by a wicked blade. His armor held well enough to save his arm from being severed but the blow did break the skin. He growled a little and thrust the tip of one of his dagger towards the centaur attacker. The blade missed vital spots but nicked the centaur's arm. Immediately, the great hoofed beast felt himself slow as a haze flooded his vision. Christoffel had ample time, with his crippling poison administered, to rip the centaur apart. The intact males, having seen what one scratch of Christoffel's blade could do, backed away and ran back into the foliage. That left the lone female to claim the Elvin prizes. But in her vulnerable casting state, the brutish mercenaries easily overtook her.

Sweating, hungry, and beyond exhausted, the pair quickly gathered their things. They would have to leave the oasis early; the smell of fresh meat would surely attract more things with fangs and teeth that neither wanted to deal with. But their journey to Booty Bay and the possible riches that awaited them across the sea seemed to trump all muscle aches and heated breaths. Soon they would be in Ratchet where the real story would begin…

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The sound of a clinking coin purse got his attention. The barkeep's wrinkled green expression turned a little less sour as a sinister looking smirk formed on his withered face. He put the stein he was spit-shining down, stood a little straighter on the stool he used to peer over the edge of the bar, and gave the newcomer his undivided attention.

"What'll be yer pleasure noble sir?" The barkeep's crackly voice seemed to slither through his crooked yellow teeth. The man, a human, whose coin purse's song was so lurid gave a curt nod.

"The best you have and some on reserve. I have a long journey ahead." The new comer's smile seemed to indicate astute knowledge of the bar keep's "prayer cache." While most of the patrons only stopped for a cheap grog or ale, once in a long while someone with finer taste and a lot less options as far as bars went would stumble along. And far be it for a goblin bar owner of 30 years to be unprepared for the rare but occasional guests with finer tastes.

"Ah that'll be the Elvin wine. We have three bottles. Will that do, sir?" The barkeep hesitated for a moment as the human smiled beneath his gold and crimson cowl. The man lifted his cloth-gloved hand to open the satchel which opened to the sight of glittering gold pieces.

"That should be more than enough. I take it the vintage is of the finest quality? And given Elvin tastes, the bottles should include gold in place of wax on the neck, correct?" The human's voice was cut by the sharp hand motions of the barkeep. He held one gnarled green finder to his pursed lips and motioned for the man to follow him into the back, coin purse in tow. This action had not gone unnoticed. The tavern itself was far from the most refined establishment and kept equally dreadful company. But weary travelers who may not know the ins and outs of Ratchet often found its dusty tables and rickety chairs "quaint." Among the patrons were a tall, gruff looking night elf woman and her brooding green-eyed associate. While the human dressed in red could seemingly afford their people's finest vintage, they were forced to gulp down what would be bilge water in comparison. Shandori didn't take her eyes off the store room door as she took another swig of her drink. With a strained look she swallowed the final bitter gulp when the red-dressed human reemerged with a large sack of clinking contents and a lighter coin purse.

Shandori sat her stein on the old wooden table with an almost echoing clunk. She gave Christoffel a quick glance but he'd already long disappeared into the shadows. She threw a few silver coins on the table, picked up her bag, and headed to the exit. The streets of Ratchet's main drag were bustling with traders, traitors, travelers, and trained pick pockets. But despite the filthy undertones the air seemed full of cheer and industry. The storms had died down but grains of grit and dirt still fell from Shandori's clothes from the day before. But she had a boat to catch and it would take more than sand and bad ale to keep her from Booty Bay and the promise of renewed wealth. A flash of red caught her eye. The red dressed human was making his way to the east dock with a shadow at his heels. Shandori's sharp sight saw a small, green orb in the center of the shadow; it was Christoffel's necklace. With a snort and a smirk she made her way to the east dock, careful to keep a distance as not to alert the red robed human of her presence. Her smiled widened when she saw him approach the embarking area of "The Interdictor" the very same ship she and Christoffel would be riding to get to Booty Bay. While the pair would ride at the cost of a favor from one of Christoffel's associates, the red robed human gladly paid full fair. And even tipped extra for the deck hand to help him with his bag. The transaction seemed almost painfully out of place in such a street-savvy place like Ratchet.

"What a fuckin' wibble." Shandori snorted, using the term she chose long ago for the naive and clueless in the mortal population. She boarded the ship with a knowing glance to the fair taker and made her way to the lower deck, still following the red robed man. She noted that the human had a fond taste for females, what few were available on the small ship. His smiles and charms provided thoughts that lead to a possible plan in Shandori's head. But while the small green orb still followed the flirtatious mage, Shandori made a sharp turn down another hallway. The paper she received that morning from Christoffel's contact said her room would be in cabin 2-B and that is where she was headed. After finding her lodging she began to change into more comfortable clothes. She replaced her heavy plate with a tight fitting shirt with see-through sleeves. The shirt itself was just long enough to cover the feral scars on her stomach. The small mirror she used to brush out her long indigo hair reflected a face that had seen much in the short span of 50 years. A face scarred by experience and a hunter's vicious tiger; 4 slash-made scars marred her right cheek. But scars fade and after a few moments a shadow that was lurking in the corner of the room began to take shape.

"If you're going to watch, I charge." She scoffed. Christoffel slightly recoiled.

"I averted my eyes, thank you. Anyway, the human is in room 3-C. We should act fast, I think there are other rogues on board and they'll be sure to notice Captain Coin-purse." Shandori nodded, as she strained to put a pair of pearl earrings through nearly closed up holes.

"Just so long as I get my cut. How long do you think it'll take you to clean him out?"

"When I shadowed him, I could smell the arcane energy on his clothes. He had a strange aura too, something similar to mages. That human might be stupid like a fox, so I'm going to have to move slowly. Give me 20 minutes and I should have everything searched through." Shandori nodded, tying a violet silk scarf over her nose and mouth; it completely covered her facial scars.

"Alright, I take it doing this at night will be better. I'll go to his door after dinner and keep him occupied." Shandori spoke with a slight shake of her hips. Christoffel appeared unimpressed by the sensual motion. He crossed his arms and nodded.

"Very well then."

Romulus smiled as the pale pink wine seemed to lovingly caress his stomach. It was surprisingly dry but the tiny amount of imbued gold that hummed with sparking arcane magic warmed his throat. The much needed vacation from the drudgery of Dalaran filled his body with a renewed vigor. His blood red hair had found a new sheen and the deep black circles that appeared beneath his honey-brown eyes were all but gone. He paused a moment before taking another sip of wine. He almost didn't notice the soft rapping at his chamber door. His thick brow raised a moment before he stood, gingerly placing his wine goblet on the small table beside him. Romulus had a slight wobble in his step but it did not stop him from opening the door to a quite enticing sight. A lavender-skined woman stood before him with a sensual set of pale eyes fixed on him. Her indigo hair was shining in the candle light although she showed far less skin than what, Romulus believed, was common among her kind. Never the less the clothing she did wear fit her well and lay in all the right places on her curvy frame. Shandori took a deep breath before speaking in the sweetest, most delicate voice she could muster.

"Excuse me, sir. I know it must be so rude of me to bother you at this hour...but. I noticed you at dinner and- and I wanted to come over and speak to you. B-but it took me this long to muster the courage to do so. I mean, feelings like these for someone such as yourself..." Shandori began to feel a slight sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. Though her ploy was lame by most people's standards, it more than captured the mage's attention. As she stuck her chest out a little more, shyly avoiding the mage's gaze, he made the mistake of stepping out into the hallway allowing Christoffel to slip into the room unnoticed. Romulus thanked the powers that be for his luck and decided to peruse the seemingly shy maiden's advances.

Meanwhile Christoffel was hard at work, digging through bags, cases and bags. The human appeared to travel light, save for one larger case filled with robes and other garments and a chest. Christoffel inwardly cursed, the lock on the chest had already been picked. The tell-tale scratches of a rogues tools were engraved on the bottom of the keyhole. When he opened the chest, only some cloth scraps and a few copper remained. That left the garment case. Christoffel opened the case to a buffet of arcane energies. It was almost enough to make him cry out with pleasure. But his self control held and he began picking the socketed gems out of the clothing. Clear rubies, emeralds, and sapphires would be the prizes for the night it seemed but the further he dug the stronger the arcane pull became. In the center of the suitcase was a glowing object wrapped in spider-silk blankets. He dared not drink in any of the energy pouring from the object, but instead placed it in his pack. When it seemed there was nothing left of value, Christofell made his way to the exit. He found the tipsy mage getting a bit too close to an increasingly tense Shandori. He smiled, wondering for a moment if he should let the action continue before mercifully sapping their prey. The mage stood there, stupefied as Shandori made her escape. The pair of thieves made their way back to room 2-B, leaving the mage dazed in the hallway. After the affect wore off, Romulus found himself in an empty hallway. But instead of cursing or an expression of stark bewilderment, a cool smirk came to his face. He shook his head and went back inside his cabin to inspect the damage.

Sure enough most of his clothing and other valuables had been destroyed but he felt no heat in his chest. He touched a broach he wore on his left lapel with his right hand. The broach began to glow as a conversation took place in the language of minds.

"Seth, are you there?" Romulus's mind broadcast the question and waited patiently for an answer. After a few minutes of silence, he tried again. "Seth? Respond, please." With a slight rumble a male voice began speaking in Romulus's head.

"This is Seth. Is it done?"

"I'm fairly sure..." Romulus paused and opened his looted suitcase. Sure enough the bundle in the center was gone. "Yes, the mercenaries took the necklaces. If they are among those who Bodyl recruited we'll know."

"Good. The others will be pleased. Stick around Booty Bay until you can confirm their involvement. Seth out." With a snap Romulus was alone. A quick glance to the table brought a renewed smile to his face. They took the gold from the bottle but his sweet mistress still remained. If he had to clean up the scattered mess left behind by the thieves he would decidedly do so in her warm embrace.


	2. Flea 2: Smooth Criminal

**Straydog Saga**

_**Flea 2: Smooth Criminal**_

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Elunis Sagesmoke woke from her shallow sleep with a headache. Though the moon and the sacred branches of Teldrasil did their best to lull her, the storm in the pit of her stomach was far too strong. Though the sleeplessness was a new feature in her life, small bags already made an appearance under her eyes. She typically enjoyed her job tending to the depleted forests of Ashenvale. She would spend her days amongst the trents and Dryads helping the forests of Felwood and the former Plaguelands heal and return to their former splendor. She would come home to her husband and his many pets and expect kisses from each and every one of them, even the foul-breathed murlock named "Fraggle". Sometimes she would use her druidic talents to turn into a sage-colored saber, spending time with the orphans and allowing them to ride around on her back, reenacting their parent's noble deeds. Though the world around her seemed to be on the mend there was one part of her picture pleasant life she could not seem to fix. Another pang in her stomach came as thoughts flooded her mind's eye. It was enough to wake her husband who gently placed an arm around her waste.

"Can't sleep?"

"Not a wink." She yawned, stretching a little before turning to cuddle into her hunter-husband. "Your father wouldn't have wanted this."

"Its not that..."

"Its not about her is it?" Elunis hesitated before nodding. Her husband, Morion Catwhisper, sighed and pulled away slightly.

"She did it to herself, El. And she'll get hers for what she did; nothing you can do about that. I just hope the sentinels get to her before I do." Morion said with a slight growl in his voice. The person in question, per the letter of the law, was only truly guilty of assault and destruction of property but among the many offenses was the death of his first and most prized pet, a old moon saber matriarch named "Babygirl". While it was an offense with a minor fine and some community service, evading arrest was not. "Besides you need your rest. I'll make you some tea and honeybread-toast in a few hours." he yawned and rolled back over to his usual sleeping position. Elunis nodded but couldn't keep her eyes closed.

"Shandori, please come home..."

* * *

Shandori had little choice but to stay in her room for the remainder of the week long trip. She couldn't risk being caught then thrown overboard for robbery. Naga and sea creatures aside, the thought of sinking like a stone was enough to keep the boisterous night elf silent and hidden. She paced around like a caged moonsaber, fiddling her new little trinket. She did not take in the arcane energy but the tiny sapphire did seem to sooth her. That morning, just as dawn finally broke, she peered out of the tiny window. But unlike the previous times a small patch of brown and green came over the horizon. Land was quickly forming ahead of them as the Interdictor made its way into queue. Once the doc was clear and space was made they docked. Shandori finally left her room and sprinted to the upper deck. She felt the tenseness leave her shoulders when there was no sign of the red robed human when or any gaggles of bruisers with arrest warrants, for her anyway. The warrior did a few stretches as she waited for Christoffel to appear. He walked down the knotted plank, with his share of the gems in tow, including another necklace made of gold and rubies. Like Shandori's, the necklace soothed him, affording him one of the best nights of sleep he'd had in years. They met up on the dock and made their way to The Dead Parrot, a small dive bar to which the instructions said to meet their new employer. The tiny, out of the way swill parlor was as musty and rank as its name. There was very little light despite the fine weather and cloudless sky. Shandori recognized the man, dressed only in a pair of common cloth clothes and an imposing black cloak, hood pulled well over his large nosed face. Upon further inspection, he was actually a dwarf, though slightly taller in stature. He was not alone, however. Three others, a strange assortment of creatures, came into view.

The first was a human woman, whose attire rivaled that of her succubus that stood quietly beside the table, admiring its nails. Though she was shorter than Shandori and as a human considered less comely than her Elvin counterparts, her figure was fuller and far more enticing. Her pouty, soft looking lips were painted blood red, and manicured brows arched in impatience. Her dark skin and silky black hair added to her exotic aura but the angry expression spoke to her over all demeanor. She sat with one spiked boot on the floor, the other resting on the edge of her chair.

The second was sort of an oddity in the dank, dark dive bar. He was a dwarf, who's aura spoke of his holy path. His fine white robes denoted his position as a priest and his wheat colored beard was trimmed quite conservatively. But even he had his vices, it seemed, as several of the empty drinking steins on the table were within his reach. As soon as his current stein went dry he checked his depleted coin purse and immediately ordered another.

The last of the three, barely able to reach the top of the table sat there nervously fidgeting with her cloak claps. Though the shaking creature might be mistaken for a human child, she was in fact a gnome. She pulled her cloak around her if she were somehow cold, tiny frame shivering from something other than a chill wind. Her big blue eyes scanned the bar as her stylish cropped orange hair shook like the leaves on a palm tree.

As Shandori and Christoffel approached, the dwarf in the black nodded and signaled for them to sit. Suspicious, somewhat angry eyes rested on Christoffel, who seemed unmoved by the hostility.

"What the hell do you think you're doing, blood elf?" The warlock growled, reaching for the sword at her hip.

"He's with me." Shandori spoke up, casting an expression that dared anyone at the table to say something further on the subject. But unlike many who would be intimidated by the bold warrior, a single sword came lose from its sheath and came to rest just beneath Christoffel's chin.

"I don't work with his kind, I slaughter them. Damn horde monsters." The warlock proclaimed. It was then that a small squeak came from the tiniest member of the table.

"Um, Keesha, you do realize you consort with demons every day. Isn't it a bit hypocritical of you to judge someone like that?" The gnome, young Ima Ation, spoke as if expecting to be hit with a shadow bolt.

"The gnome has a point, lass." The priest managed to speak between joyful sips. All the while Christoffel sat there motionless, as if the threatening warlock didn't exist. He crossed his arms and waited for the situation to right itself, never keeping his poisonous daggers far from reach.

"Who's side are you on?"

"We're on the side of making money and each second of my time you waste threatening my business partner is less money in my coin purse. So sit your big ass down, shut up, or I'll shut you up." Shandori spoke with a calm voice but threatening glare. The sword moved from beneath Christoffel's chin as Shandori stood. Keesha quickly moved to within an inch of Shandori, lifting her gaze to glare into the night elf's eyes.

"You think you can talk shit to me, purple bitch?"

"No, I definitely did just talk shit and if you don't get out of my face I'll send you to meet your demon friends in the next life."

"As hot as this is..." Christoffel pulled a few small objects, what looked like plain darts and flung them in the direction of the fighting pair. One hit Keesha in the thigh, the other hit Shandori in the arm. "...I suggest you both sit down, you wont have use of your legs in a few minutes." Shandori and Keesha glared at the rogue who had so administered darts that were cleaned but still had traces of paralytic poison on them. With little choice the argument ended with a pair of quick glares and curse words.

"Are you all done then?" The dwarf in the black cloak drawled. His accent was strange, not at all like the priest who seemed to speak in the standard dwarfish tone. "Lets get down to business. I'm hiring you all for a very important quest. If ye should succeed, my offer of 1000 gold a piece will stand. If ye should fail, well, lets just say you'd have to say hello to my ancestors for me."

"So what exactly is this 1000 gold quest?" Christoffel asked, seemingly interested but his eyes did not seem to marvel at the prospect. The dwarf cleared his throat and placed a map on the table.

"I am a collector and a student of archeology. The artifacts I'm studying are far too difficult to find and would take too much for me to get on my own. The artifacts in question would be very valuable to wizards and warlocks alike, if my hunch is right. I have an alchemist friend who tells me he can make a potions that can make someone as strong as a dragon, or as quick as a tiger. But these are common and only temporary. My aim it so make the effects permanent. But in order to do that I'll be needed some green dragon bones." The dwarf pointed excitedly to the map to a location in the heart of the Swamp of Sorrows. "There is a sunken temple in the middle of the swamp. Some say heroes of the past slew a whole mess of green dragons there. I'm hoping the bones still remain. If you can get me as many bones as you can find, I'll pay you an additional 100 gold per measure." The dwarf nodded.

Shandori stiffly nodded as the others seemed to ponder over the prospect of so much gold. It sounded far too good ot be true although the pay did match the work.

"How...do we...know you have...that money?" Shandori asked, struggling to move. The dwarf nodded thoughtfully and carefully responded.

"I have the money, don't you worry. I'm just not dumb enough to bring it to a table filled with murderers, rogues, and mercenaries." He shrugged. Shandori found no words to argue with his logic. She struggled but managed to place her hand down on the map and agreed to the terms. With a quick tap, Christoffel administered the anti-poison and she immediately felt some relief. The gnome, a mage and eager young student nearly leaped at the chance to obtain rare magical artifacts. Monk Wheatbeard found he was a priest who could not let these adventures or his wallet go without a bit of healing.

And so the group would head out first thing the next morning, long after Keesha's paralysis would ware off, in search of dragon bones and mysterious patron's gold.

**

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The smell was nearly unbearable. Each step into the bog evoked a sloppy, muddy "blop" with a renewed stench. The questing party managed to get a ride from their employer in a cargo cart as far as Deadwind pass. When they found themselves in the Swamp of Sorrows after what seemed was a pleasant ride, minus Ima's cherubic chatter the entire way, they scrambled to cover their noses.

"Gods, it smells like something crawled up a kodo's ass and died." Shandori coughed, trying not to vomit.

"Nah, smells like me uncle Sam the morning after a keg party at Brewfeast." Monk shuttered at the memories of those blood-vomit mornings. He did his best not to get the churning swamp water on his pristine robes, but it was futile. Ima was struggling to keep her head above water.

"C-Can I get a ride, please?" She squeaked. Each step on the uneven ground threatened to send her into the foul soup. Even on the few patches of dry land the stink followed. But there were worst perils in the Swamp of Sorrows than mosquitoes and dirty water. Keesha's slave, the succubus, gave a warning hiss. With a crack of her venomous whip, she left a gaping wound on the flank of a swamp leopard.

"We got cats." Keesha hissed as a pride of leopards came from the dripping foliage. The quintet formed a tight circle, back to back as the cats began to circle licking their tarnished and broken teeth. Shandori saw how skinny they were and their ribs were as apparent as a full moon on a cloudless night.

"Hungry cats...be extra careful. They're not going to back off easy. Monk, cover me. I'll gather them up. the rest of you shoot them down."

"Wait lass-" Monk started but Shandori was already sprinting towards the largest, the patriarch. She struck it hard on the skull with the butt of her sword as the rest of the pride came down upon her. Keesha's succubus and Christoffel joined the fray as Keesha began casting horrific bolts of shadow in their direction. Ima shook once again, trembling far too much to concentrate on a spell. With a squeak she held her hands out and hoped for the best. her wild thoughts produced equally wild magic. Bolts of fire, ice, and purple light burst from her fingertips with varying results. Some of the cats were partially charred, others were frozen in place. One seemed to shrink until the form of a sheep bleated in its place. The smell of living mutton was enough to distract the other cats as they pried their teeth and claws off Shandori and pursued their seemingly easy prey. The party ran, verbally praising their smallest member, before coming to the edge of a great lake.

As they took some time to catch their breath they noticed armor protruding from the quagmire. Elite dragon spawn that once guarded the temple lay rotting and exposed.

"You think these will do?" Shandori pulled up the skull of one of the dead dragon spawn. It seemed oddly soft, and some of the flesh still stuck to it.

"I don't think so. If the bones are going to be used for alchemical experiments the inexpedience need to be precise. Dragon spawn bones may not be viable. And I suppose our esteemed employer could have gotten these himself if they were." Christoffel mused out loud. Shandori gladly tossed the skull into the muck.

"Well 'spose we gotta get a swimmin'" Monk sighed knowing he'd never get the stains out of his cloths after this adventure. Keesha, Christoffel, and Ima followed his lead.

"W-wait, we have to swim? Isn't there a bridge in or something?" Shandori's voice shook a little. The 4 pairs of mocking or shocked eyes fixating on her didn't help.

"Why da hell would there be a bridge? Its a SUNKEN temple." Keesha ticked.

"Miss Dori, you can't swim?" Ima asked with a small voice. If she wasn't purple, the others would be able to clearly see she was blushing. Ima giggled a little and swam back to where Shandori was standing. "That's ok, I think I might be able to help ya." Ima dug through her bags until she gripped a small blue sphere. She held it out, closed her eyes and concentrated on a spell. Some of the bog water began to spin and form small water spouts. Soon the spouts began to take shape. What was once nothing more than swamp water had become a giant water elemental. "Here we go, he should be able to carry ya across." Ima nodded and the water elemental floated closer to Shandori. Though its grip was awkward, Shandori eventually got situated on its massive shoulder.

"Ima, this is amazing! And you're just a student?" Shandori marveled.

"Sure as sunshine. If you think that's impressive, you should see what my teacher can do. He's nuts!" She chirped. The party made their way to the great temple and as soon as Shandori set foot on the mossy stones the water elemental that bore her returned to its original state. Now they stood in front of a set of imposing stone doors covered in much and moss and gods knew what else.

"Alright, lets get us some dragon..." Shandori began to say as she took a step forward. Her foot sank and in an instant she felt herself falling. She triggered a trap, sending the group falling into darkness. Christoffel groped in the darkness, grabbing onto a vine. It held and he quickly managed to grab a hold of Shandori. he gritted his teeth as the added weight strained the vine that gradually ripped from the temple wall. Once again they found themselves falling but a gust of air from below seemed to buffet their fall.

"Don't worry, I gotcha!" Monk shouted, casting slowing spells as quickly as possible. Soon the party's feet met solid ground again, having to wade through the remains of those unlucky enough to set off the trap and not have a skilled priest in tow. The trap above ground back into place, encasing then all in darkness. While Shandori had no trouble seeing, the others could not see within an inch of their noses. She dug through the corpses, finding some coinage, first aide supplies, and wood used for torches. Ima provided a fireball and one by one Shandori passed around the lit torches. they found themselves in a long, cobwebbed corridor. With no choice but to walk forward they quietly moved into the musty hall. The sound of running water was the only thing they could hear at first but the farther they traveled the more apparent other signs of life became.

"Sounds like imps." Keesha whispered as the sound of echoing speech became louder. An odor wafted in from the direction of the voices.

"And trolls. This temple used to belong to a troll clan if memory serves. Would explain that smell." Ima whispered. when they came to the end of the hall, it t-boned into another hallway. Shandori peered beyond the wall to see no less than 10 imps hopping along the corridor. Luckily their were only three trolls that she could see. they formed a plan and engaged their enemies who were no match for Shandori's rage, Ima's wild spells, and Keesha's shadowy might. Christoffel was only behind in the slaughter because he took the time to pickpocket the trolls before they were dismembered. They sprinted down the hallways, knowing the fight would attract the attention of others in the hallway. Sure enough, a handful of trolls and their minions came at them, all suffering the same fate. During the fray, Ima noticed an odd fetish along the wall, a sequence of strange shapes lined the wall seemed to indicate their quarry was down a long, spiral staircase.

"Guys, down this way, the bones are down there!"

"How do you know?"

"Just trust me!" Ima shouted, hitting one of the imps with a bolt of arcane light, killing it instantly. After the new set of monsters were dispatched, the party followed Ima's instructions. The hunch paid off. they came to a large sacrificial pit that was littered with the bones of trolls, dragons, and travelers. But the group felt the wind knocked out of them. they would have to pick through the bones, one by one, to try and determine which were dragon bones and which were junk.

"Uhhhgh just remember, 1000 gold, this is worth 1000 gold..." Shandori muttered to herself as she picked through the gore. Christoffel, a skilled alchemist in his own right was the designated bone checker. After 15 minutes of the grim work, only 5 actual bones were found.

"Hey, what's this?" Keesha mused as she picked a large emerald from the carnage. The large stone was adorned with looked like living gold, with golden leaves growing from the branches. It slowly began to shine. Shandori's eyes went wide.

"Its a druid's tool, drop it!" Shandori shouted but it was too late. Gnarled roots burst from within the stone, quickly covering the party with poison-filled thorns. The druid's tool had become corrupted after the user's death and a spell that was intended to trap, had twisted to destroy. Shandori screamed as the thorns pricked her arms and neck as the roots constricted around her. Lockeesha, who bore a lot more skin was slipping into darkness. Monk, seeing his companions slowly being crushed and poisoned concentrated through the pain. He could feel the light coursing through him, turning him into an instrument of its love. He called forth a mighty ball of light that filled the room. Any magic that surrounded them was eaten away by the dispelling light. the party crumpled to the floor, their collective heads spinning from the poisonous barbs. Shandori snapped to attention by a strange voice in their midst.

"No, no, no no! this is bad, bad!" The voice trembled. Shandori thought the poison had caused her to hallucinate for where the tiny gnome once stood, was a six-foot troll. The troll trembled, its short orange and very stylishly cut hair shook like the leaves of a palm tree. "The light must have erased my transfiguration spell." She shook, looking with still soft looking red eyes to the party that was slowly recovering through Monk's holy light.

Ima had some explaining to do...


	3. Flea 3: Stuck in the Middle With You

**Straydog Saga**

_**Flea 3: Stuck in the Middle With You**_

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* * *

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"Please, let me explain!" Ima found herself being backed into a corner, or rather a sacrifice pit with no visible bottom, by three very angry looking alliance members. Christoffel reserved his judgment for a possible fellow member of the horde, if she was in fact a Darkspear. As she was backed to the edge, Ima nudged a few bones into the pit. There was silence for what seemed like hours when the sound of crunching finally echoed through the sacrifice pit. Ima felt the sweat pooling around her armpits and back as even more began beading on her forehead.

"Talk fast." Keesha growled as her succubus licked its murder-hungry lips. Ima's deeper but still squeaky voice flew through chattering tusks.

"I-I didn't mean to d-deceive you, honest. I just did this so I could go to school!" Ima flinched as she held her large, three-fingered hands to her face, as if about to be pummeled. Keesha took a menacing step foreword, but felt a plated gauntlet on her chest. She stopped and cast the one impeding her progress a questioning look.

"Go on." Shandori wryly spoke with a raised eyebrow. Ima put her hands down and with a gulp continued her story.

"Where do mages go if they really want to learn from the best? Dalaran! That was my dream: to learn from the best mages from Azeroth and beyond. But how many trolls do you see learning there? Can't think of any can you?" Ima paused, heart leaping at the chance to be proven wrong. But none of the others, not even Christoffel with his connection with the horde could think of any troll mages in the ranks of Dalaran's elites. "So I worked on learning all I could- how to speak your language correctly, how to cast basic spells, but my main focus was on the draconic art of form shifting so I could take the form of a gnome. The spells are relatively simple but unlike dragons that can just change whenever they want, I needed special artifacts in order to conduct the spell. Luckily for short-term change I could just make a potion but it wasn't until I was accepted into the mage's academy that I was able to conduct long-term transformation spells. Monk's magic disbursement spell must have been strong enough to wipe out all the magic around us, including my transformation spell." Ima sighed. She looked with vulnerability her strangely soft looking orange eyes.

"So you mean to tell me, you went under cover as a gnome so that you can become an elite mage, that about right?" Shandori asked with a sly smirk.

"Yeah, I only took this job because it would pay for books, and reagents." Ima stressed hoping to walk away from the edge of the pit. But the trio didn't budge.

"So, just curious: Is Ima Ation your real name?" Ima felt her once sweaty skin freeze. She looked away and nodded.

"Imajin Ation actually."

"So not only did you not fortify your spell against disbursement, chose to travel into dangerous and possibly chaotic magical temples, you went around using your REAL NAME?" Shandori chuckled a little and shook her head. "Oh man you're a wibble!"

"A Wha-?"

"Tell you what. I'll make a deal with you and I think Chris, you may find this agreeable…" Shandori cast a glance to her business partner who nodded for her to continue her thought. "We'll let you live and NOT expose you to the Silver Covenant if you agree to my terms."

"I don't believe this crap. First a blood elf now a troll? I should report YOU to the king." Keesha declared with Monk contemplating the same. Shandori shook her head.

"This isn't about alliance and horde, sweetie. I don't care if you're purple, tan, green, blue, or hoofed: If you get in the way of my goals, then you're my enemy. But if you're useful," she gave Ima a significant look, "then you're my best friend, right Ima?"

"T-that's kind of beautiful in a sick and amoral kind of way-but I totally agree with that!" Ima quickly added.

"Besides, you're a warlock. I doubt your human king will believe you, a demon consorter, over a fellow warrior. And I don't think Monk likes seeing people killed. So Ima, do you agree to my conditions whatever they will be?" Shandori asked, extending her hand to make the deal. Ima sighed and hung her head.

"I don't have a choice." She whimpered, taking Shandori's hand and giving it a firm shake.

"Alright then. Chris, Keesha, and Monk-keep looking for bones I'll join you in minute. Ima, listen up." Keesha began to protest but Monk reminded her about why they were there and how much more money she would stand to make the more bones they found. "You will be working for me and Chris. You will surrender the bones out found to us and we'll be taking your share of this trip's gold."

"B-But—"

"Furthermore, you will be our slave until your first day of class starts. You will surrender all your earnings gained during that time. In exchange we will at no point tell anyone living, dead, undead, or otherwise existing what you really are and we will assist you in gathering the reagents you need to create your disguise or whatever. Sound fair?" Ima slowly nodded and began taking the bones she had in her pack and handing them over to her new master. She could feel her whole body tremble. The classes she would be taken would not be offered for over a year. Her heart sank at the prospect of being their pack animal for an entire year. But once they were satisfied with their haul and convinced there just weren't any dragon bones left, Ima guided them through the safest paths out of the temple. She conjured her faithful water elemental, this time twice the size to accommodate both her new masters, and the group made haste back in the direction of Duskwood, the designated meeting point. Once at the fork in the road the group didn't have to wait long for their employer to appear. Though they were all skeptical at first, the mysterious dwarf kept his word and Shandori's coin purses threatened to burst under the strain. Monk and Lockeesha bid varying degrees of farewell as the group split to hold celebrations in different towns. Monk decided Darkshire would be both a great place to spend his money and help the alliance if needed. Lockeesha made no mention of her destination and left heading north on the road. The mysterious employer mentioned he would be heading to Ironforge to aid his friend in the alchemy experiments and that if he needed any more assistance he would send word to Shandori's P.O. box in Booty Bay. The partners, now a trio, headed to the coastal city to celebrate and regroup.

* * *

"Oh man, did you see that whore's face? 'First a blood elf now a troll?' all shaking her ass and crap. Who'd she think she was anyway?" Shandori slurred, purple faced and slightly drooling as she took another swig of high-dollar stout.

"Nah, don't be so mad, don't be so maaaad. She's nothing." Christoffel giggled, character altered by a magic called "SuperGoblin Boomjuice (Jungle Rumble Flavor)", and tipped his empty cup for emphasis. Their mutual servant, Imajin, quickly refilled the cup with a sober sigh.

"C-Can I just get a sip?"

"NO! Its mine, damnit! You can't has it! Haahahaha!" Christoffel shouted through his laughter, snatching the cup back and clutching it to his chest. Shandori hiccuped and nearly tipped to the floor. Her cup sloshed, spilling some of the dark liquid onto her deep blue shirt.

"Aww, alcohol abuse!" She whined and took the shirt off, revealing a brown leather bra. Ima squeaked at the sight of massive scars all along Shandori's left shoulder and midsection. The claw marks, made by a tiger of some sort, were deep and not well cared for.

"Miss Dori,"

"Master Dori to you, Wibbly!"

"Master Dori, what happened to your stomach, I mean the s-scars?" Ima flinched, feeling her stomach sink at Shandori's intense expression. There were a few tense moments between them before Christoffel mercifully spoke.

"A sorry, that was me. Got a little wild last time." He managed to say with a straight face. Chris and Shandori burst out laughing again with Ima nervously joining in. She hung her head and muttered.

"By Zul, what have I gotten myself into?"

* * *

A priestess fumbled with a silver comb. She had run such little adornments through her indigo but slightly silvering hair for over 300 years. But she received a letter from one of her daughters, who lived in her former residence of Teldrassil, just days before and the energy coursing through her caused her aging hands to shake. She clasped small pearl earrings into her long, sky blue ears before hastily placing her usual mantle on her shoulders. She shuffled towards her bedroom door, which seemed more like a tangle of birch branches. She placed her palm on one of the larger branches and they opened like a fruit peal into a main hallway.

The great tree in which she and the rest of the priestesses and druids of the Whitebranch Initiative was of Teldrassil's own seed. Though it was as tall as its parent, it was only a scant four years old. Its miraculous growth was the result of powerful magic that the seed took in from the Bay of Storms, in the heart of what used to be The Well of Eternity. The one responsible for bringing it such a long way was a mystery but one thing was apparent: The naga would not come anywhere neat the behemoth. The entire tree was a bright, shining white with specks of radiant color reflecting off its billions of tiny leaves. When inspected, the druids were dumbfounded over its seemingly magical nature yet uncorrupted state. But despite their skill, the druids and priestesses could not make it to the top of the tree, known as the Pinnacle Bow, without the aid of skilled mages that could navigate the arcane currents flowing with the wind above the bay. When it was seemed safe, appointed druids and priestesses started their vigil in the center of the strange tree hoping to finally heal the first battlefield of the Burning Legion.

But that day was one of rest and Iona Sagesmoke would spend it with her children, if all went according to plan. Her pale blue cloak billowed as she dashed down the sparkling hallway, nearly slamming into something soft and fur covered. A fierce blush came to her face when she realized just whom she bumped into. The Night elf had deep lavender skin and long white hair bound in a low ponytail, which unlike most night elves, hung in tight curls. She wore bright white robes and a simple mantle, face obscured by a white fur antlered helm that covered her eyes and nose. She was the appointed steward for Mydrassil, the high-ranking priestess known as Orifiel Whitedeer.

"Lady Whitedeer, I'm so sorry I didn't see you."

"Well she does blend in. Told you should chance that outfit." Spoke a deep voice from beside the reindeer-helmed Orifiel Whitedeer. Another night elf, more specifically a highborne mage, smiled and nudged his companion slightly. Orifiel rolled her eyes.

"He keeps trying to get me to wear this silly warlock garb he calls fashion; ignore him. And it's no trouble at all, Lady Sagesmoke. It happens a lot when I come down here."

"What DOES bring you both down from the Pinnacle Bow today?"

"Well it is the day of rest and the arcane winds are placid. We were planning on spending some time on the mainland. Where were you off to in such a hurry?" Orifiel smiled as she felt the energy surrounding Iona grow bright.

"I received a letter from my daughter. She's coming to visit today with her mate while she's still able to travel. In a few months time I will become a grandmother! At age 150, can you believe it?" Iona nearly squealed but did manage to regain her composure. The elves still struggled with low birth rate. Although physically they were mortal, mentally they still felt they had all the time in the world to procreate. Elunis was just a child in Elvin culture, just 40 years old. But she had found love fast in her mate and they wasted no time in starting their family.

"That is quite some news! You'll be submitting your leave of absence soon then?"

"If that's permissible. I doubt she knows what she's in for with a little one around."

"It is fine on our end. But do send your request to the high priestess as soon as possible. You never know when something pressing might arise." Orifiel smiled and took Iona's hand in hers. "Truly, congratulations! Don't let us tarry you any longer. Go with Elune." Orifiel nodded. Iona said a small prayer to Elune to protect them in their endeavors and continued in her haste towards the east perch where, in place of teleporters they simply could not get to work in such a magically chaotic place, there awaited Cenarion hippogryphs ready to bare and retrieve honored guests and a widow's fondest joys.

* * *

"Mother, please stop fussing."

"Its my job." Elunis sighed, her husband holding her up by one arm her mother by the other. Her sickness had gotten worse over the last few weeks and the rough ride to the middle of Mydrassil did not help matters. Her usual indigo skin was nearly as green as her short emerald hair and she stopped for a few moments at a time to control the rising bile in her throat. Iona lead them to one of the many outdoor lounge areas which overlooked the ruins of naga efforts both ancient and recent. Though within the vicinity of the glowing tree it all seemed morbidly beautiful. They sat her down in one of the pale-wood chairs before sitting themselves.

"Are there attendants?" Morion asked, still holding his wife's hand. Iona nodded and motioned to a small refreshment bar. A human woman, one of those commissioned to provide food and custodial services, came to the table with a notepad in hand.

"What can I get for you miss?"

"Some hot tea and honey bread sandwiches, please. Oh and what are those small square crackers?" Iona asked making a square with her fingers.

"Oh salt-crackers. We may have some of those. And if I can suggest, tea can be a little heavy for an upset stomach. We have a ginger-water drink that really helps with sea sickness if you're interested."

"I-I'm interested!" Elunis panted as she heaved into a small container.

"Poor dear. I'll get back with your order as soon as I can. I'll also bring some more bags if you need them." The human woman offered. Iona gratefully nodded and rubbed her daughter's shoulder as the server quickly walked back to the refreshment bar. Once crackers and ginger-water were consumed, Elunis found the world became a bit steadier than it was before.

"So how have you been, aside from a bit sick?"

"We've both been well. I've arranged for a leave of absence from my duties in a few months' time. Morion made some big sales and tell mother about the training business." Elunis nudged her husband, hoping to jar loose some words from his usually tight lips.

"Err—yes. Enrollment is up and we've opened child lessons. I've hired a few more trainers, which means I can spend a bit more time at home when the child comes."

"And I'll be spending some time helping out with the babe as well. It will be nice being around family again. I've missed you both so much." Iona spoke with shining eyes.

"It must be lonely up here away from Teldrassil. But hopefully they'll transfer you back home once they have everything mapped out."

"I hope so…" Iona paused and gave a sigh. Thoughts wandered to her old home, the one she once shared with her husband and two little girls. Elunis was always quiet and adored making her own little games with a few twigs, nuts, and seeds. Her elder daughter, who was fond of traveling to Stormwind with her father, always played with the human boys in their heroes and villain's games. She learned to speak common from them at a young age and learned to wield a sword just as well as any of them. Iona sighed as images from that one night in late summer filled her mind. The shattering glass, the shouting, and the bruises that seemed to remain long after the marks healed.

"Your sister hasn't tried to contact you has she?" Iona asked, all joy momentarily leaving her voice. Elunis shook her head. "I figured if she'd try to contact anyone…never mind."

"I'm worried too mother. The sentinels are involved now. If they catch her…"

"I'm sorry but she deserves the maximum punishment. Babygirl's murder aside, to strike one's own mother? Despicable." Morion scowled. Images of his own began to make their way into his mind's eye but they were quickly banished. Iona shook her head.

"Words were said, feelings were hurt. I dropped the charges weeks ago. I was hoping the sentinels would go after bigger fish than her." Iona sighed. Morion shook his head.

"If they don't find her soon, a bounty will be released alliance wide. My mother was a guard. I know their procedures well." Morion affirmed. Iona's face turned pale as she placed a hand on her chest.

"A bounty, why?"

"Lawbreakers are always brought to justice, no matter the charge. Give it a month and every thief and bounty hunter will be after her head." Iona felt her once beaming heart sink in her chest. She took a slow sip from her flowery teacup and shook her head. "She chose to do what she did. We need to look to the future. I'm sure when the time comes Shandori will realize her mistake and face justice." Iona told herself. If only she could make herself believe it.


	4. Flea 4: Another One Bites the Dust

**Straydog Saga**

_**Flea 4: Another one bites the dust**_

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Ima shivered a little in the crisp morning air. The sun was just casting its yellow blanket over the choppy sea as if the water would also prefer to sleep in. But Ima had to get to work while she could. Her masters drank nearly a fourth of their massive earnings that night, which meant she may have time to gather the first of the reagents needed for the gnome transformation spell if all went according to plan. The sand felt gritty beneith her slippers. She frowned as the waves started creeping closer, forcing her to either ruin a very pricey pair of standard uniform shoes or go barefoot. Her discomfort was overcome by a slight gleeful tickle in her chest as the sight of long grooves coming from the surf caught her eye. Her quarry was not far away as she felt her steps morph into a light trot. At one point she could hear strange noises, coupled with the sound of hisses coming from what looked like a troll ruin. She ducked behind a tropical looking plant as a pair of naga came slithering down the sandy dune. Ima could not make out what they were saying but it appeared the female, hissing with a snarling face, was angry about something. The male just shook its dragon-like head.

"I mean, that tramp Lshzha thinks she can just up and steal MY MAN like that? She's such a skank, isn't she?"

"Uh huh..."

The naga conversed in their own language a bit before a shadow formed above them. They looked up to see a bright blue cloud circling ahead.

"What the?" The male managed to croak before a hail of icey daggers rained from the strange cloud. The shards pierced the scaly hides, causing them to shriek and frantically look to fine the source of their agony. By the time they spotted the troll mage, hiding behind the dune plants, they felt their underbellies begin to grow hot. The burns were unbearable as they tried desperately to reach their attacker. But it seemed something else was slowing them down. The female, more sensitive to the flows of arcane energies, could sense the strange binding spell around them. But the final spell, a burst of arcane energy so violent it broke their bones, was what finally killed them...but not before their brethren heard the commotion and were converging on the single mage. Ima held her stance as another spell formed in her steady hands as the massive hissing collective charged.

The pounding in Shandori's head was enough to drive the most disciplined person mad. The room was fuzzy and every ray of light that entered from the small window was like a knife to the forehead. She tried to sit up and heard a pained grunt from beneath her. Christoffel came to a rude awakening, with a half-clothed night elf on top of him and the empty bottle of boomjuice still in his hand. Luckily, it appeared both were still wearing their pants at least though Shandori could taste the hint of smoky fel flavor in her mouth. Shandori looked up to see a pained smile on Christoffel's face.

"Please get off me." He winced as those same light-knives had turned to assault him as well. Shandori shifted, hoping to avoid any further discomfort that would arise from being that close to her business partner, and started looking for her shirt.

"I don't remember taking the damn thing off."

"I think it was sometime between your 6th stout and when we uh..."

"Lets not go there. Ah here it is -crap, its still wet. Oh well, I can just buy a new one." Shandori sighed, putting on her breastplate without the comfortable linen shirt. Christoffel decided to change into his spare, as his own shirt smelled like a drunken moose. Shandori, trying not to be obvious, stole a glance. But her eyes grew wide not out of lust, but at of the sight of three coin-sized growths on the blood elf's chest.

"Damn Chris, those things have gotten bigger. Are you sure you don't need to see a doctor?"

"I told you, they happen. The largest they'll get is the size of a finger. They're harmless; just look bad, that's all."

"Well alright, just don't die on me before you make me my millions." Shandori nodded with a smile. She paused a moment and looked around the room. "Speaking of making money, where's our minion?" Christoffel put on his spare shirt before pointing at a note on the door. Shandori walked to the door and tore the note off. She quickly read it and crumpled it in her hands before stuffing it in her pocket.

"She's down at the beach, looking for naga. We better go get her before this turns into a bad investment."

"Can't wait wait a while? My face is killing me." Christoffel groaned, trying to button his leather vest with little success. Shandori thought for a moment before putting her swords and shoulder-pads down.

"I think some bitters and breakfast won't kill us. I just hope we get to what's her face in time before her little naga hunt kills her."

Ima stood victorious on a large, twitching pile of singe-frozen naga parts. In her merriment, she did a small victory dance while singing a little tune to herself: "...and another one gone, and another one gone, another one bites the dust. HEY, I'm gunna get you too, another one bites the dust-ahhhh!" She laughed as her grim work began. She took her fishing knife and gutted the first naga, looking for the stomach. After digging around in the naga's gut for a few moments, she lanced the organ, spilling its contents. The first, second, and third attempts yielded nothing but a massive mess and even worse stench. But there were treasures to be had, as some of the naga kept trophies from their previous kills. Coins, trinkets, baubles, but most importantly: the swallowed sea pearls imbued with arcane energy. Sometimes, a naga would eat an oyster and swallow the pearl within. The pearl, unable to be digested or passed, remains in the stomach where it collects the arcane energy the naga sometimes feeds on, making for a powerful catalyst in spells. Ima was able to collect 5, more than enough to complete the ritual. Stomach growling ad bags full, Ima began to make her way back to Boot Bay. Along the way she passed by a human fishing in the nearby surf. He turned to see her, blue eyes widening as Ima smiled and waved with a warm "good morning." The human, caught off guard, collected his fish and ran in the opposite direction. Ima, confused for only a moment looked at her hands and realized why the human had been so frightened. She sighed and shook her head. She knew the action shouldn't have bothered her. She was a troll, a proud member of the Darkspear and of the horde. But she was a mage first, and she knew the potential for lost knowledge from fear and the inability to converse with all manner of creatures.

Thoughts of Shandori and Christoffel's cooperative made her smile. Her greatest heroes, those who inspired her to become a mage in the first place were those working hardest for peace. Warchief Thrall gave up his power, his high position in order to work more closely with the human Jaina Proudmoore, a mage and a pioneer in her own right. Though Thrall and Jaina were more heroic figures something about ancient enemies like night elves and blood elves finding a common bond, even if it was greed and lust for the vices, uplifted her. But in the midst of her thoughts a tall shadow creeped along the coast line. The figure's long hair was blowing in the sea-wind. Twin beacons for eyes still shown brightly in the sunlight. Not far behind, a faint figure stalked along the sandy beach, making sure they didn't run afoul of anything lurking nearby. Ima smiled and waved.

* * *

"Good morning Master Dori, Master Chris!"

The Trio stayed in town and ate lunch at a local falafel stand. Though there was no meat in the fried chick pea and bread balls, Ima inhaled the Draenei treat. Hummus and pita-kebob also found their way pasted tusked lips while the still hung over Shandori and Christoffel chose to abstain. When the elves met with Ima on the beach the confiscated all of the extra baubles and do-dad's she'd collected. But, since they were able to get a good deal on the items, Shandori allowed Ima to gorge on her favorite foods. Shandori waited for the troll to clear her plate and sit back on her chair before addressing her.

"So, we'll be set for a little while. And I know you said you need to get some reagents for your spell. You got the pearls, what else do you need?"

"Well the pearls were easy to get but the rest may not be. I'm going to need seeds from the Dryad's joy plant and a worgen tooth. A weird bunch of items, I know, but its what the spell calls for." Ima said, rubbing her full belly. Shandori hummed and thought for a moment.

"Well I'm sure we can find the Worgen tooth in Gilneas. They've got to have dentists and apothecaries that will have them. But the Dryad's joy is going to be tricky." Shandori mused. She had not been back to Gilneas since the final stand when the worgen refugees finally reclaimed their ancient home from the clutches of the vile scourge.

"Why's that?" Christoffel asked. He'd seen them in his travels through Ashenvale in the past.

"When the orcs cut their way through Ashenvale, they cut though some of the main pollination areas for the plants. I used to see them all over the place when I was a kid, my dad used to work with bringing their population up a bit but there are hardly any around now...How many seeds do you need from the plant?" Shandori asked, wheels obviously turning in her quick mind.

"I think each plan has about 10 seeds in them, I'll only need 3. We could probably donate- or well, sell them to some druids. Especially if they're interested in saving the species." Ima smiled as Shandori patted her on the shoulder.

"I like you. Keep thinking like that and I may let you go early. Now, I think we should hit up Gilnaes first. I know the forsaken are nearby, so you both can stop in their city for a while if you need to while I go get us a worgen tooth. I can see if we can get any side jobs while I'm there and after that we can plan our trip to Kalimdor. Sound like a plan?" Shandori looked to her two companions who didn't seem to object. The plan was set and before the sun could find rest below the horizon the trio set off by griffin towards the newly rebuilt Greymane wall.

* * *

Keesha wiped the blood red wine from her black lips with a small white napkin. The crimson walls and black-wooded décor of The Slaughtered Lamb seemed to echo her mood. She looked to the barkeep, who motioned to the exit. A small burst of light managed to slip passed the doorframe as a haggard looking human passed through with his partner not far behind him. The nearly toothless warrior smiled and waited for Keesha's permission to sit. His young associate, a human rogue with short brown hair, did the same.

"Anything interesting today, Garl? You better not be wasting my time." She said with a raised eyebrow. The older man cackled and shook his head.

"Whether or not these are a waste of time is up to you, as always my dear." She smiled and took a few weathered pages from his pocket. He opened the flyers and other various listings and placed them on the table. Keesha put down her wine and moved her fingers to grasp the paper stack. She leafed through them: wanted posters, jobs, warning, missing children, and other such notices. When she came to the last page in the pile her eyes went wide and the sweet wine she drank nearly caused her to choke.

"You tryin' to be funny Garl, what's with this?" She held up the page in question, a wanted poster with the picture of a night elf woman with four claw marks on her left cheek. Garl took the page back, looked at it for a moment and nodded.

"This one came out a week or so ago. Small time crook this one, wanted alive but the pay isn't worth the trouble in my humble opinion." He drawled. Keesha scowled.

"I know her, she's a horde loving traitor. It was disgusting." Keesha started, going on to tell the details of her encounter with the money hungry warrior with her shady associates.

"Sounds like a piece of work." The other man chimed in but quickly stilled his lips. Forsaking the other pages, the wanted poster with Shandori's drawn image seemed to burn in the warlock's deadly hands. Keesha put the paper down in the center of the table and took one last tip of her wine.

"No, this one's mine. Gear up boys, we have a bounty to collect."

* * *

Ima looked around as the hay cart they were riding in hobbled along the dirt roads of Hillsbrad. They had landed in their respective destinations of Tarren Mill and the Alterac outpost, since the region was in a state of chaos after the Forsaken expansion. They met at a crossroads and were fortunate enough to find a goblin trader headed in the direction of Tirisfal. Their gold brought a smile to his already grin-lined face and off they were, hidden and restfully traveling to their destination. She kept doing so until her vision caught something of interest. She studied the object thoroughly before pondering her assessment to her travel companions.

"I spy with my little eye, something that starts with the letter 'G'"

"Grass." Christoffel sighed.

"Your turn Master Chris." Ima chirped. He searched the surrounding terrain before forming his reply.

"I spy with my little eye, something that starts with the litter 'S'"

"The sky?" Shandori asked with the shaking of Christoffel's head as her reply. "Uh…me?"

"Yeah, can't see much under this hay." He spat as a few pieces of the material made its way into his mouth. "Your turn."

"Hmm…I spy with my little eye something that starts with the letter 'G'."

"We already did grass." Christoffel snorted.

"That wasn't it, look." Shandori shifted in the hey and helped Christoffel out of his burrow. Shandori pointed to the massive structure, one that used to stand as solid as the mountains of Aerie peak. But the Greymane wall lay shattered under the might of the forsaken and though a temporary cease-fire was in effect, all three were on their guard. "This is my stop you too. I'll get your worgen tooth and meet you at the border to Tirisfal in 3 days. That should be enough time to find the thing. Sound good?" Shandori asked with nods as her reply. She dug her way through the hay and leaped from the back of the wagon onto the grassy hills. After rolling several feet she came to rest in front of the shattered doors of Gilneas. She turned to see the wagon hobbling on and waited until it was out of sight before heading towards the main gate. The entire city seemed to be bathed in grey. All the buildings stood, black roofed and silent. Though the sun was shining, clouds seemed to linger along the foggy streets. The Gilnaens themselves seemed to be about as friendly and welcoming as their buildings. Shandori straightened her belt and made her way to what looked like a pub. She had three days to locate a worgen tooth, and she had only been in the dank city for about 10 minutes. She sat down at the dark but rather elegantly decorated bar, winked to the sneering bar tender, and asked for a menu.

* * *

Christoffel's expression didn't change at the sight of the blighted hills and smoking wreckage. Tirisfal looked less like a forest and more like a warzone. The worgen and their allies did leave their mark in the forsaken lands, once the prosperous kingdom of Lordaeron, though they seemed to face an enemy that would not sink quietly into death. Ima covered her beak- like nose at the smell of burning flesh and rotting meat. Christoffel sighed and started sifting through the hay.

"I need to get off this thing; I'll meet you at Undercity, in front of the mage quarter in a few hours." Ima bid her master farewell as he slinked like a passing shadow over the edge of the cart. He landed nimbly on the side of the road and did not turn to watch the vehicle pass. Memories of dark but blooming trees came to him. The sounds of tweeting birds and bleating sheep, forever replaced by the sound of silence punctuated with the occasional explosion. The spry grass was now nothing more than wisps of dried straw beneath his leather boots. The stray dogs that howled in the night and kept the beloved company of those who couldn't find home were now nothing but rabid un-living monsters.

Christoffel did not shed tears over the loss. There was little in the broken landscape that could move him to do so. Cloaked in shadow, Christoffel made his way down the broken road to the small village of Brill. He allowed those shadows to fade, as not to startle the death stalkers that guarded the down. They saw his ravaged complexion and fel-glowing eyes. The considered him for only a moment before giving him a nod. The smell of decay was concentrated there but he would not let the opportunity pass. He had nearly forgotten the little trinket that lay secure in one of his inner pockets though its owner's image could never be purged from the back of his mind. As he passed through the main graveyard gate he pulled out the medallion and the world seemed to freeze around him.

He knelt beside an open grave, cold dirt finding its way onto his legs. The faint sounds of battle mixed with childish laughter began running through the cracks of his memory. The impending flood began to work its way to his eyes, but the dam held. He did not here the grave-digger approach.

"If you're mourning her, she was raised yesterday." He sniffed, his hanging jaw threatening to meet the ground. Christoffel turned, hoping the heat he felt in his cheeks did not manifest beneath his eyes.

"O-oh no, someone else." He sighed and turned back to the cracked headstone. "Someone who stayed dead." Christoffel dug a small hole just in front of the empty lot and placed the small medallion within. He hesitated for a moment before moving the dirt over the sacred trinket.

"Lucky them." The gravedigger snorted before returning to his grim work. Christoffel did not reply, his mind had wandered too far. The vision of the headstone and graveyard seemed distant as shadows of the past came into focus.

* * *

"Isn't this place wonderful, Narlyn?" Venlyn Dawnblade declared. Narlyn, who would one day be known as Christoffel Stingblade, looked to the cheery yet seemingly crude surroundings with an upturned nose.

"You are easily impressed brother."

"Oh, come now. Don't tell me that ceremony wasn't impressive! The flowers, the music, the wine- the very pleasant ladies..." Venlyn smiled wide. Narlyn moved as a gaggle of small human children ran past the two decorated Quel'dorei priests. They arrived a few days before with their people's diplomats to celebrate the first birthday of Prince Arthas. Lordaeron became a glorious beacon of joy and celebration that day and Venlyn fed off the energy as his people would partake in the bright energies of the sunwell. He himself abstained, though the pains of his birth-addiction did beacon occasionally, it all seemed so far away in the presence of the human revelry.

"Don't mention such things to father when we get back; you know he wont like it. Remember his reaction when you cut your hair?" Narlyn smirked at the thought of his father's hanging jaw and rage filled eyes. Though Venlyn's hair was a healthy shoulder length, the sight of the human-style hair cut was enough to leave all five brothers with ringing ears and hilarious mental images.

"Ah, come on brother. Get the stick out of your ass."

"What?"

"It's a human expression. It means you need to relax more, enjoy things more. Don't worry so much about what father thinks. In case you haven't noticed, he isn't here." Venlyn chuckled as he caught sight of a pleasant looking brown haired woman no older than 20. She wore a crown of pink flowers that went well with her burgundy dress. He caught her looking in their direction as she quickly tried to look anywhere but at them. Venlyn smirked and grabbed his brother by the arm. Narlyn was literally dragged, red faced and hissing towards the blushing human girl, who nearly squeaked in the presence of the elves.

"Good day, miss. How are you enjoying the festivities?" Venlyn asked with a baby-faced smile. The girl's face became more like a tomato by the second. Narlyn's was not far behind only for slightly different reasons.

"Yes, thank you sir. I-I'm sorry for staring, b-but I've never seen elves before. I hope I didn't offend you." Her bright green eyes flashed with fear for a moment but Venlyn's aura soothed her tight chest.

"No offence at all. In fact our kind LOVES to be looked at. Don't we Narlyn?" He cast a smug look to his younger brother who could only grunt in reply. "You'll have to excuse him; he's not exactly an expert in interacting with the fairer gender." Venlyn could feel the razor gaze on his person but the smile did not fall from his face in the slightest. The young woman's look of humiliation quickly turned into a cheerful, laughing image. An image that made Venlyn blush a little himself.

"You're very funny. I'm so glad I came. My name is Meryld Fillmore. May I ask your names?" Meryld took the two edges of her dress and gave a demure curtsey.

"I am the great and powerful (and very handsome) priest of the light, Venlyn Dawnblade," he spoke with a grandiose and over-done bow causing Meryld to giggle, "And this fellow is none other than my esteemed youngest brother and fellow priest Narlyn. We are very thrilled to make your acquaintance." Venlyn cast a quick glance to his brother, who muttered an affirmation of the sentiment.

"Well I'm not sure of your order would allow it, but I'm meeting some of my Explorer's League co-workers at Young's Pub in a few moments. I just got admitted to the league and we're going to have a little celebration of our own. I'd be honored to converse with you both more there, if you're allowed to do so, of course." Before Narlyn could respond, his elder brother spoke for him.

"We'd be delighted. But it'd probably be best if we changed into more common attire. Meet you there in say, a half and hour or so?" He offered. Meryld agreed and with a small wave turned to walk in the direction of the pub. Narlyn struck his brother on the shoulder.

"What do you think you're doing?"

"Her hopefully…" Venlyn smirked, rubbing what would eventually be a bruise on his arm.

"You wouldn't!" Narlyn gasped. Varlyn smirked and lead his brother in the direction of their accommodations.

"Nar let me explain something to you. We'll have plenty of time for ritual and rules when we get back to Silvermoon. Now's our chance brother! I bet a cutie like that has friends, or sisters or something." Varlyn spoke but was met with silence. Narlyn stopped walking for a moment, giving Varlyn pause. The smile he wore shifted as a look of uncertainty came to his face. Narlyn looked his brother in the eye and gave a soft smile.

"As disgusting as the thought might be I won't stop you…and father doesn't need to know."

The sunny sky and cheerful voices gave way to grey silence. It wasn't until his eyes came back into focus did Christoffel realize that his cheeks were wet. He tried to stop the flow but no matter how many times he wiped them, the tears kept coming. And then guilt began pouring into his stomach like foul liquid. The pangs worsened at the thought of his judgmental words and harsh criticism of the only person who ever truly cared about him. He began to feel nauseous as thoughts of his embarrassment when Venlyn chose human culture over his own, his venomous replies whenever Venlyn would use human slang, and the utter disgust when his brother did not return to their room until the morning after, smelling of flowers and perfume.

Now the only thing he had left of his brother was the little trinket he buried. And while it could easily be forgotten, the dead eyes of his brother's lifeless face would haunt him no matter how many times Christoffel changed his name. He found he could stand, though his knees slightly shook and took one last look at the little spot of covered earth. But as he turned around he felt a pair of eyes at his back. A pair whose plump lips no longer drew breath. Her face was covered by a long black hood, but her garb was that of a dark ranger.

"Tears for a Quel'dorei's pendant? A dangerous sentiment around here, Stingblade. That is what you call yourself now, isn't it?" She spoke with a haunting voice. Christoffel, eyes drying, gave her a questioning look.

"I'm sorry dark ranger but do I know you?"

"Not as you see me now, but perhaps in another life…" She slowly pulled back her hood to reveal what was once a face that would make men weep. Her grey lips were one luscious and pink. Her burning red eyes replaced fel orbs of emerald green. Torn and stitched skin was once sun kissed and soft. Her long, crisp white hair was once the color of spun gold. It took him a moment but he felt a flash in his mind. His eyes went wide and he nearly sank back to his knees.

"Highraven…"


	5. Flea 5: Salty Dog

**Straydog Saga**

_**Flea 5: Salty Dog**_

_**

* * *

**_

"It can't be…" Christoffel could feel himself flush as the forsaken gave a sickened smile.

"You've seen so many horrors in Northrend, are you honestly so surprised?" She spoke with a scathing tone. She walked towards him eying the little burial mound with a sneer. "One of yours?"

"My brother. He loved Lordaeron." Christoffel whispered. Highraven knelt down reached out to touch the spot where the artifact lay buried. It emanated waves of anguish and regret. She smiled all the more.

"I am not here to reminisce." She flatly spoke. Christoffel turned, eyes asking her to continue. "You're being watched. I am the one tasked to do so."

"Well let me be the first to say you're not doing a very good job."

"Funny. You will not be laughing when you are assassinated for consorting with the alliance. I've seen you with the night elf and a few others. The evidence of your guilt is quite damning." Her words made Christoffel laugh.

"Who, Shandori? She's about as much of a member of the alliance as I am the Silver Covenant." He softly laughed. The thought made the laughter seem sour, like an over ripe fruit.

"It does not matter. The Warchief will see it as betrayal and you will suffer far more at his hands than you ever did at mine, especially when you are so overtly burying a Silver Covenant pendant in hallowed forsaken soil." Christoffel remembered the searing pain, the lashings, the beatings, and the fel addiction he received from the Sunreavers after his capture. But Highraven was the one to deliver the news that his mother was not only alive, but a leader among the Sin'dorei ranks and smiled as he succumbed to moments of utter rage and despair. She watched with fatal delight as he was forced to fight yeti with little more than a walking stick for her commanders' amusement. But as the weeks passed, his once blue eyes became poisoned and green. His brilliant blond hair became coal black and it was evident that bigger plans were meant for him. At her commander's insistence she would be the one to train him and once under her dark wing, Christoffel began his bold career as a rogue. In his ignorance of her secret delights at his expense, the student began longing for the teacher's lessons. But extra-curricular studies were never offered and before he could act on his lusts, Highraven was slain in the fight against Christoffel's former comrades in his stead. But the eerie spirit before him held no inkling of compassion or care. He could only feel coldness and hatred coming from her glowing red orbs.

"Still…it's damn good to see you again." Christoffel's words suddenly left him. She turned to look him in the eye and found herself sighing.

"I suppose it was impolite of me not to say "hello" first. But I haven't felt very sentimental since my death." She emphasized the last word. Christoffel looked away.

"That didn't need to happen. You should have let them kill me."

"Yes, I should have. But the living have a nasty heroic streak. I paid the price for mine. The dark lady has charged me with your death as a betrayer to the horde, as if you were ever a part of it. Do not rely on my good nature again, you'll be sorely disappointed." She stood and turned to face her former student. She walked past him, black cloak billowing silently behind her. Christoffel caught the faint smell of lilac, a scent Highraven was always fond of wearing, even into battle.

"Consider this meeting a last courtesy to an old student. The next time you see me, I will not capture you nor will I bring you before the Warchief…I will simply kill you." She warned, finally slinking back into the shadows. Christoffel sighed and muttered.

"I'll be waiting."

* * *

Shandori wasn't quite sure how it all started. The pub had been filling up since she got there that afternoon. Lots of people were peacefully playing rummy at tables; a few conversed or drank at the bar, and a few smoked pipes near the windows. And somewhere between her third stout and second helping of Sheppard's pie, someone threw a chair, a single chair-a chair which, once it hit the ground, seemed to turn reasonably rational patrons into a bunch of wild dogs. Tables upturned, knives and pistols were drawn, normal humand turned into giant furry beasts, and crime of crims: fresh beers were spilled all over the pub floor. All at once a maelstrom that rivaled the one in the center of the world formed in the small pub, causing the owner and bar tender to duck and cover.

"Look alive there rabbit ears!" A woman, who was sitting beside Shandori, threw up one of her massive axes to block an incoming stein to the back of Shandori's head. Shandori quickly swallowed the last bit of her lunch and stood amidst the chaos.

"Shit, thanks!" She yelled over the mayhem as the pair of warriors attempted to fight their way through the fray of teeth and swords. Shandori was lucky enough to have a shield, while the woman, appearing to be a human of about 50 years of age, only had her two massive axes. Despite her grey hairs and wrinkles, the woman wielded the massive axes as if they were made of paper, cutting through chairs and foes alike. Her fierce ability to cut down anything in her path gave Shandori an idea.

"Hey Granny, ever hear of the tease and cleave?"

"Call me that again and I'll cut you too. And yeah why?" The older-seeming woman asked while ducking as a knife flew past her head into the opposite wall.

"I'll tease, you cleave. Ready?"

"Go for it. Just do me a favor."

"What's that?"

"When its time you may need to hit me over the head, you'll know when." The older woman replied while slamming the butt of her axe into a man's stomach. Shandori gave her a puzzled look before bashing one of the worgen in the face with her well-worn shield.

"If you say so, get behind me." Shandori shouted as the older woman did as she was told. Shandori concentrated for a moment before she leaped up and stomped on the ground as hard as she could. The action caused some of the wooden panels to bend as a few of the drunker patrons fell over. Nearly all of the angry patrons turned to see the cause of the thunderous action and they were greeted with a mocking look.

"Hey assholes! I'd call you all sons of bitches but that wouldn't really be an insult to you would it? Wanna know what its like to get your dog-lovin asses kicked by a girl?" She shouted. She laughed inwardly at how stupid it sounded, but several growling worgen began converging on her. Shandori's shield held as claws and teeth threatened to pierce her defenses. "Any day now granny!" She grunted and stole a glance behind her. The old woman was gone. Shandori cursed as she felt her cheeks flush. She didn't see the old woman go but the chill feeling that she'd been left to deal with the mess started settling into the pit of her gut. It wasn't until she saw a blur of grey and brown fur leap over head did she realize that the old woman didn't leave her to her fate after all. The creature's green eyes shifted to a raging red. Aged but still deadly fangs shown in the window-light as she growled menacingly at the crowd. Unable to speak through the unleashed rage, the old worgen beast tossed the patrons around like chew toys. Each limb severed by her wicked axes was one more reason for the wild patrons to turn tail and flee the scene. At the end of the fray only Shandori and the beast were left standing.

"Well aren't you full of surprises, great job!" Shandori paused, color draining from her violet skin. When the creature turned to glare at her with glowing red eyes the expression of rage did not subside. At once the beast lunged for the night elf, dreadful teeth aimed at her throat. "Oh Shi—" Shandori barely had time to throw up her shield which actually dented under the immense assault. Her arm began to burn under the intense pressure. Finally she used her sentinel academy training and used the worgen's momentum against her. While Shandori failed basic training, she did seem to take some useful abilities with her, rolling out of harm's way like she did during class. But just as she righted herself an axe came crashing down over her head. Once again her shield was nearly destroyed and the searing pain in her arm nearly made her scream. Eyes tearing, Shandori scrambled for any opportunity to do as she was told, though getting anywhere near that face full of teeth would be a challenge. She looked to the floor and noticed something about her assailant that made her grin through her grimace. With a growl, Shandori brought her sword as hard as she could to the side of the worgen's unprotected kneecap causing the beast to howl and pull back for a moment. Shandori seized the opportunity and brought the butt end of her sword down upon the beast's skull. In her younger days, it would have taken several fierce blows to bring her down but the worgen's golden years were upon her and Shandori's strike was enough to send her to the floor in a heap. Shandori stood there, bleeding and clutching her aching arm.

"Damn, not cool at all." She hissed, noticing lines of bruises along her forearm. She moved to leave then she felt something crunchy at her feet. She moved her boot to see a severed worgen fang, covered in blood and laying on the floor. She knelt down and inspected it, with a triumphant smile. She placed the small reagent in her pocket as the sound of guards approaching made her shoulders tense. As she moved towards the exit the sound of a pathetic moan caught her sensitive hearing. She turned to find the worgen, not human again, laying on the ground and unable to move. The footsteps outside were getting closer as the sounds of whistles in the distance made Shandori want to sprint to the forests and hide. But the sound of the ailing old woman was louder and caused her to turn from her clean escape.

"Shit." She groaned and limped to the old woman's side. She was a thick woman and required a little balanced lifting in order to get her standing again. The pair of battered warriors made it out the rear exit just in time for the guards to arrive.

* * *

The roaring fire warmed their weary bones as a light rain began to fall in Silverpine forest. The old woman, bandaged to the best of Shandori's ability, gratefully accepted the haunch of boar meat the night elf prepared.

"Thanks for getting me out of there. I didn't feel like spending another week in the stockade." She sighed and took a healthy bite of boar meat. Shandori pulled a bit of meat from the bone and cut it into small pieces.

"Well it would have been pretty screwed up if I'd left you there after you saved my skin. How's your head."

"It's fine. Hard as a rock, always has been. Though I think I'm missing a tooth…" The old woman reached into her mouth to find a new space in her already fight-busted mouth. Shandori popped a bit of boar meat in her mouth, shrugging and not taking the tooth she'd found from its place in her bag.

"It happens sometimes uh, sorry I didn't get your name." Shandori asked. The old woman finished chewing on a piece of her dinner before answering.

"Most people call me Digger. I spent a good number of years as an archeologist before I had to retire. And you?"

"Shandori. But most people call me "that bitch!" no pun intended." Her words made Digger burst out laughing. The sound made an awkward smile come to Shandori's face.

"You're a bit of alright, kid." Digger coughed and crabbed her aching head. "Damn you hit hard." She chuckled. The pair talked well into the night, pausing only to investigate a howl or other dangerous sounds in the night. The next morning brought them to a decision of diverging paths but not before the worgen warrior offered to obtain passage to Kalimdor at a greatly discounted faire through a good friend in the Explorer's league. She wrote down a set of instructions and people to talk to, in case her friend was not available. But Shandori couldn't keep herself from asking to hear more tales of Digger's exploits in the league and the pair found themselves walking together towards Silverpine's northern boarder.

* * *

The winds around the Pinnacle Bow were placid. As the sun set over the horizon the bright energies could be seen as far away as Tanaris. The blinding white trees made the many colored leaves look all the more vivid as they danced about in the night. The branches formed a thick canopy, only small patches indicated the change in time. Within the Pinnacle bow there was a small village, surrounding the center of the massive treetop. There dwelled the skilled mages, few priests, and hand full of druids who studied the tree and its properties. The only ones who could transport their fellow students were the mages and many druids found the arcane energies found there to be abhorrent. The brave priests who weathered the nearly constant storm managed to do so with fervent prayers.

In the deepest part of the treetop was a closed off room made of woven branches. Within stood a single figure who concentrated on what seemed to be a massive diamond encased in a flow of swirling energies. The night elf outstretched a deep violet hand into the swirling energy. A small smile came beneath a great, antlered mask. The energy felt like many cool marbles on her fingertips. But it was not the tickling energy or the stable status of the forming gem that made Lady Whitedeer smile. A shadow at her back and a pair of strong arms around her waste coaxed her away from her work.

"Will you ever let me get any work done?" She softly spoke with a smile.

"You come here too often, dearest. The energies are stable, no need to check them every hour." The highborne mage, who was never far from his lover's side, replied. He leaned forward and moved some of the fur on the collar of her mantle to kiss her exposed neck. Though the action was slight, Lady Whitedeer tilted her head.

"Not interested in my report I take it?" She spoke with a smile. Another voice came from just beyond the woven wall that gave the mage pause.

"No, but I am." The voice grunted as some of the branches pealed away to allow the other mage passage. He was a human mage with pleasant looks, long red hair and garb to match. The high borne mage cast the intruder a venomous sneer before moving away.

"Why Lord Romulus you're early! We hadn't any time to prepare for your arrival." The mage spoke with a mocking sweetness in his voice. Lady Whitedeer placed a hand on his and gave a loose squeeze.

"Keep your robes on, Seth. You two can have your moment later. I come baring news; it can not wait." Romulus looked to Lady Whitedeer who nodded and summoned a small scrying orb. Romulus took the orb and concentrated for a moment before a scene began to form within. Harnessing his arcane magic, he enlarged the orb and made it float in the center of there they stood, a healthy distance from the fragile swirling cocoon around the massive diamond. Through the murky water they saw a ship carrying three people of interest. The first was a night elf warrior with several scars on her face excitedly telling tales of her new mentor. Another listened intently, eyes excited and marveling at the tales. Her blue skin, tusks, and wild orange mane distinguished her as a troll. The third, a brooding elf stood in the corner, his mind adrift at sea.

"Why do you waste our time with those three? Bodyl's dealings with them are over." Seth Nightgaze hissed; thumb ever stoking his lady's hand. Romulus shook his head.

"The items those three retrieved are the bones of green dragons. If he figures out what to do with them he may make his move against us, and soon. We need to heighten security both in the Pinnacle and in the Tangled Canals. And those mercenaries may not seem like much, but I have seen ones like them cause amazing amounts of damage countless times before. They've proven money is their chief god and I know Bodyl has hoards the size of mountains. It will not take much to bring them and more like them to our roots." Romulus affirmed. Lady Whitedeer nodded.

"I enlisted the help of some powerful associates several weeks ago when the energies began to shift into the final phase. If Bodyl dare send these…stray dogs he calls mercenaries they will meet a formidable force at the very least." Lady Whitedeer spoke with a calm confidence.

"Let those pathetic fools come if they may. It has been a long time since I enjoyed a good massacre." Seth hissed, banishing the image of the crude crew. Lady Whitedeer cast him a warning look, causing him to look away and clasp her hand a little more gently.

"Let's hope it doesn't come to that." Romulus bowed his head and excused himself, insisting that he get back to Dalaran in time to teach his night class. When the tangling branches sealed his exit the pair left in the strange space embraced.

"You should not say things like that. People will think ill things of you." Lady Whitedeer sighed as she removed her helm, revealing a soft looking and exotic face. His amber vision met her blinding white orbs before they leaned in for a brief but loving kiss.

"I apologize if I spoke too rashly. But something about that arrogant bastard always manages to make my skin crawl."

"You know he means well. Now come, its evening now and I'd like to go for a walk in the lower trunk. Will you join me?" She asked with soft, pleading eyes. He placed a gentle kiss on her forehead before waving his hand to create a doorway in the tangled wall.

* * *

The merriment at the Menethil Harbor Inn could barely be measured through the booming laughter and revelry. Steins were clinking, patrons peacefully drinking, and any scores that needed settling were taken outside. At the largest table sat a gaggle of old dwarves with a few of their former human co-workers. The mostly gray and retired members of the Explorer's League gathered there to celebrate a new member among their distinguished ranks. At one point, one of the more hydrated old dwarves stood, or at the very least attempted to stand, with one thick leg on the table. He raised his stein and slurred.

"Ta' Digger! May 'er nose be sharp and her pick axe sharper!" His words added to the howling and clapping in the already busy inn. When the noise at the table died down a little the same dwarf began clapping his hands to a steady beat, encouraging others to do so. Digger blushed with a nervous laugh and covered her face with the palm of her hand. The dwarves began to sing the very song she herself helped inspire.

"As I walked down to Booty Bay one evening in July

I met a maid who asked my trade – A sailor John - says I!

And away you Johnnie' – My dear lassie!

O you Stormwind girls, can't you dance the polka

To Gilneas I took her, I did not mind the cold

An' I bought her two jeweled ear-rings, and they cost me fifty gold

And away you Johnnie!' – My dear lassie!

O you Stormwind girls, can't you dance the polka?

Says she – 'You lime-juice sailor, now see me home you may'

But when we reached her cottage door, she unto me did say

And away you Johnnie' – My dear lassie!

O you Stormwind girls, can't you dance the polka?

She says her man's a Pally, with his hair cut short behind

And he wears a pair of plated boots and he sails in the Northrend Line

And away you Johnnie' – My dear lassie!

O you Stormwind girls, can't you dance the polka?"

With a stomp of his foot the song was over and everyone at the table clapped. Digger could only sit there, clutching her red laughing face as the dwarf took his seat.

"Never got over all that did, you Johnny?"

"Yah broke me heart, Digs. But that's alright, no hard feelings." He chuckled before downing the rest of his porter. As the night went on, those who could have stayed awake til dawn when their hair was thicker found sleep biting at their eyelids. At around one in the morning the last patrons made their way to their rooms, leaving Johnny to pay the tab. Digger found she was one of the few who had the energy after the night of rabble rousing and the pair of old friends decided to take a walk. The sound of waves and the salty sea are did nothing to lull their spirits as they talked.

"…so what'll you do now that you're not in the league anymore?" Johnny asked, wiping his large nose with his dirty sleeve.

"I'm not really sure yet. I suppose I can do some odd jobs while I still have my wits. Thanks again for everything Johnny. This was a great night." She smiled at the grey-haired dwarf who blushed a little under his beard.

"Not a problem, Digs. You know we dwarves don't need a reason to party but they always seem more fun when you do. I'm surprised your friends didn't stay and celebrate."

"Oh I only just met them. They needed to get to Kalimdor to find some sort of plant."

"Sort of an odd bunch if you ask me. Even with the peace efforts, something about hanging around blood elves n' trolls just ain't right." He snorted. In his youth he and his brothers took up axes, shovels, and any other tools they could find against the invading horde. Long before that, their assessors fought the trolls that infested their home kingdom of Dun Morogh.

"Well you've got to give them credit for trying. Maybe we're too old and decrepit to understand." Digger laughed. She looked to the stars, only slightly covered by the deep blue clouds. "I remember a time when we were so careless and stupid. Remember Draenor?"

"I've spend 20 years tryin to FORGET Draenor." Johnny shuttered. Images of strange creatures, ravenous demons, and nether-bathed dragons flashed in his weary blue eyes.

"Seems like an eternity ago. I can still see those damn green eyes. It was lucky the warden got there when she did. I didn't think we'd make it out of that damn temple alive." Digger sighed. As the pair walked to towards the dwarf they bid the night watchmen a hearty hello. They continued reminiscing until a drawing posted on one of the tag boards caught Digger's attention. A very stylized drawing of a night elf woman with long dark hair appeared in the lamp lights.

"What's that?"

"It's the wanted board. I didn't know you dabbled in bounty hunting." As the pair approached Digger felt her fingers begin to sweat. She shuffled the salty pages away, completely uncovering the freshly posted page. Two pairs of eyes went wide. The fresh paper had two drawings: one facing the viewer and the other facing to the side. The drawings depicted a night elf woman with an angry expression and 4 distinct scars on her left cheek. The poster read:

_**"WANTED: Shandori Sagesmoke**_

_**Alive to face justice**_

_**For Assault, attempted murder, animal cruelty, theft, and destruction of property.**_

_**By the Silverwing Sentinels Darnassian Precinct**_

_**1000 gold reward"**_

Digger took a step back.

"1000 gold? You think she killed the high priestess or something!" Digger hissed, a cold chill running through her veins.

"That's a lot of scratch. Every bounty hunter in Azeroth and beyond will be looking for her—hey where you going?" Johnny shifted in the direction Digger took off running.

"To the griffin pens. I've got to get to Kalimdor."


	6. Flea 6: Sweet Dreams Are Made of This

**Straydog Saga **

_**Flea 6: Sweet Dreams are Made of This**_

_**

* * *

**_

Smoke filled her lungs as the scene around the miller's daughter began crumbling into chaos. Fires burned where the great demon walked as one by one her friends and neighbors began to turn into unspeakable horrors. When her own mother crumpled onto the floor and heaved black vomit, Keesha Hazzad couldn't move. She couldn't think of the normalcy she used to know. The smell of sweet bread mingled with death as her mother's skin began to rot before her eyes. What was once dead, if only for a few moments, rose again. The pits of the creature's eyes were filled with liquefied flesh as her face began to purify. Keesha screamed but felt a pair of strong hands pull her away.

"Father, why?" She cried, unable to hold her tears back in the madness. Her father said nothing as he pulled her through the front door. More disgusting creatures began to chase them, however slowly. They ran through market row, leaving flames and the shambling mass behind. Keesha's father felt his heart leap at the sight of the main gate. Their freedom was only a few steps a head of them.

"We're almost there, come on!" He shouted over the mayhem. But just as they reached the massive gate, a blinding light rode through. The paladins and priests of the silver hand were like sunshine breaking through the darkest night. The one leading them into the hell that Stratholme had become was the brightest of them all.

"My prince, thank the light!" Keesha's father panted, with scorched lungs as he moved to pass. But the wall of light blocked his path and without warning, his prince brought the hammer at his side crashing down upon the desperate man's head. Keesha screamed as her father's blood sprayed across her face. Before his life was extinguished, he uttered a single phrase.

"The key…" he gurgled before succumbing to his injury.

* * *

Keesha screamed as she woke, covered in sweat. The Barrens nights were cool but she felt her skin burn. Though she camped with those who had known her for years there were no comforting words, no strong hands on her shoulder. Just the sound of her succubus feasting on some unfortunate animal that wandered too close. She felt herself shutter as the nightmare subsided, succumbing to the small tears streaming down her face and neck. She took some of the soaked travel bedding and began wiping the wetness from her back and side images from the horrific day still reeling in her mind. The light plagued her nightmares, not nightly, or often enough where she could prepare for them. The struck without warning, rendering her the innocent girl she used to be if only for a moment.

The approaching shadows ahead were obscured by the flowing dust of the Northern Barrens. Keesha kept her cloak drawn close and her mask closer. She arrived in Kalimdor ahead of her associates and thought she'd have to wait for her chance to stop one of the alliance's most brazen defectors. But not only did the one in question arrive at the same time, but on the same boat form Menithil Harbor. But while the trio talked, ate, and shopped in Rachet, the warlock began preparing for their encounter. No doubt the wanted poster would have been circulating for some time, so haste in her casting would be key. She also had to make the runes so specific that only one of the three travelers would be able to set off the trap. Keesha smiled behind her opaque mask as the shadows began to take shape. Three imposing figures, each head and shoulders taller than her human form approached from the south. Her plan was simple. She knew Shandori would not go down without a fierce fight and her companions were skilled in their crafts. But Keesha studied under one of the foulest mistresses of the demonic nether and her arsenal was great. The dread runes were long set and all it would take was a single step forward to initiate the sequence. She waited like a leopard, silently watching from a tall, withered treetop. The trio was chatting about something of little consequence as they came dangerously close to one of the initiate lines. Small beads of sweat formed on her dark brow as the first of the three, the troll, stepped over the initiate line.

"So actually, troll sweat jarred for several months becomes a powerful form of gold polish—" Ima gasped as she felt a dark magic surround her. It was as if a second skin made of shadow surrounded her and threatened to break every bone in her body. To her traveling companions, the curse made it appear as if she'd turned to stone. Chris could feel the fel magic behind the spell but could not determine the source. He stepped on one of the initiate lines and in an instant he too was trapped in stone. Shandori pulled out her sword and shield just as the sound of demonic breathing crept up from behind. She turned, wide eyed, to the sight of a massive demon. Strange chains made of searing violet magic bound it to someone hidden but its intent was evident in its slashing claws. The beast roared and brought its fist down in the direction of Shandori's head. She avoided the blow and brought her weathered shield to slam across its fanged face. But the demon was fast and Shandori quickly found herself on the defensive.

She could feel herself straining to keep up as the taste of blood in her mouth seemed to restore her resolve. With a guttural scream she brought her sword down on the demon's arm, severing it at the forearm. Screaming, she slashed several large holes into the beast, rendering it innate and in several pieces on the ground. She panted, as a howling fog seemed to form in her ears. But through the muffled noise and sound of her own breathing she could hear a faint chuckle.

"Didn't think it'd take you THAT long. This will be easier than I thought." The voice, which seemed familiar, mocked from behind. Shandori turned to see a fully cloaked figure gazing at her with deep brown eyes. She could smell fel energy all around the woman, denoting her loathsome profession. Shandori didn't have a chance to assault the figure before she felt the searing pain of a shadow bolt to the chest. She was knocked back but managed to stand. Keesha muttered a quick spell, cursing Shandori with a crawling pain all over her skin. Shandori fell to one knee, clutching her seemingly burning face. Keesha took a triumphant step forward. One more traitor would see her dark justice, it seemed. She pulled her fel-bathed sword from the sheath at her side. She raised it up, ready to bring it down through Shandori's exposed throat. But her smiling expression quickly morphed into one of abject pain as she felt her stomach burn. Keesha made a sickening noise as her shocked gaze fell to see the edge of a rogue's poisoned dagger protruding from her stomach. The vicious wound began to churn and rot around the blade as its wielder withdrew. No blood came, as the energy that enchanted the blade cauterized the wound. Shandori blinked to clear her vision. As Keesha fell Shandori saw a fel-bathed Christoffel grinning madly behind her. The blood elf had consumed the spell that bound him, and his body seemed to be wracked with pleasurable tremors. His eyes were wide and seemed to glow three times as brightly. He slowly turned and began consuming the energy that surrounded Ima. Her freedom came at the price of Christoffel's deteriorating condition. Veins nearly burst from his temple and neck, his hair seemed to bake, and he felt as if his heart would explode in his chest. He laughed as the delightful pain stabbed every nerve, every inch of him. Ima looked to her master and rushed to his side. His laughter gave way to pathetic cries.

"He's overdosing on the spells. We need to get him to an oasis, I can conjure a salve with the local plants, hurry!" Ima spoke as she used some of her trollish strength to lift the blood elf up and over her shoulder. "Can you walk master Dori?" Shandori blinked and nodded though her legs looked as if they would crumple at any moment. But her legs held and they trio found themselves rushing towards one of the contested oasis hoping that they would not emerge a duo, leaving the paralyzed warlock to her fate.

* * *

The priest pulled his pale blue hood further over his fair face with one shaking hand. The gentle Quel'Dorei steed he rode needed little steering, which suited her rider well. Only one hand could grip reins as the other was severed along with the rest of his arm and shoulder long ago. His weary and often wandering steps now took him in the direction of the fabled Mydrassil, tree of many wonders. The sun at his back seemed to push him on despite the rumble in his belly and dryness on his tongue. Those who visited the great tree spoke of its incredible magic and ability to heal wounds seldom seen but felt all too often. His fellow priests told him it would do him well to visit the great tree and conduct his meditations there. With little to do since his forced retirement and the walls of his room all too much like prison bars, Hanariel found the thought of traveling to the great tree like being out on parole. His clouded thoughts were interrupted by his companion's call and back trot.

"Shh, calm down Melissa. What is it?" Hanariel's almost feminine tone soothed his mare as he squinted to see what was a black spot in the road ahead. Melissa would not move at his urging causing him to sigh and carefully dismount. He slowly approached the figure, lying face down and blanketing by a long black cloak. He uttered a small prayer, bathing his form in a bubble of light before kneeling beside the figure. He nudged the fallen warlock gentle, finding her to be ridged. He was about to offer a prayer of final absolution when the sound of labored breathing came to his long, pointed ears. He moved her, though with some effort on to her back where the woman gratefully gasped. The effects of the paralysis wore of just enough for her to hiss the word "poisoned" and motioned to her wound with her eyes. Hanariel gasped at the sight of the rotten wound and quickly quieted his mind. He could do nothing for the poison but his skill at healing even the most horrifying wounds was note diminished by his injury. The wound closed, leaving a small but visible scar. The light would keep her alive long enough for the poison to pass from her system but the priest took no chances. With all the strength his willowy bones would afford him, Hanariel dragged the unmoving Keesha to a small patch of grass, out of sight. He watched over her, setting wards and other manifestations of prayer in a small perimeter around them just as the sun began to dip into the shivering night.

* * *

Ima ended up with two bodies on her strong but straining back. While she carried the tremor-stricken Christoffel, Shandori's legs gave out. Visible burns began forming on her skin and Ima had a spare shoulder. When they finally reached the oasis Ima rested the pair against a smooth-barked tree before doing a few quick stretches. Christoffel turned a sickly white as small, but ever growing green runes began appearing on his flesh. Shandori would suffer more scars if Ima didn't act fast, as small blisters on her neck began to grow. Ima offered soft-voiced assurances as she dug around in her reagents bag. She had all she needed to make a weak salve that would somewhat neutralize the fel energy. Even if the mixture failed, it would at the very least bring the energy in his body down to less toxic levels. But in order to make any sort of stronger salve or burn cream, she would need to obtain the soothing cylix of the peacebloom plant. The Barrens was a good place to find the plant but Ima hesitated to leave the two alone in their condition. Shandori struggled to speak but managed to croak: "What's up?"

"I need to leave you two for a bit to gather some plants I need. Do you think you'll be ok for a few minutes? I won't go far." Ima said, grasping Shandori's shaking hand.

"You…don't owe…shit. You…could leave."

"But I'm not going to leave. I'm going to come back and make you better, ok?" Ima said, placing Shandori's hand to the night elf's side. She stood and took of at a run towards the open grass, hoping the dry plants sheltered her quarry. The sparse knolls held very little in the way of flowers or other roots. But the small, white plant seemed to persevere despite the vast changes in landscape. Ima's eyes hastily scanned for the tiny plant but with a huff she found herself drifting from the oasis. Finally a single peacebloom plant caught her ember-colored eyes. She quickly moved to pick the gentle flower but just as her blue, pudgy fingers moved to pluck, a great drooling mouth beat her to it. A wandering kodo with tufts of deep gray fur snorted at her as it chewed the little white petals into oblivion. Ima felt an immediate heat flush across her face.

"I don't have TIME FO DIS!" She roared, voice slipping from perfect common back to her native troll dialect as her eye flashed red. Entering a rage few creatures lived to see twice, Ima's aura became like a fiery blaze. She extended her hands, shooting balls of flame from her fat fingers. The kodo howled and charged at her, head down and pronged horn exposed. But the barrage kept coming: missiles of flame and arcane energy flew onto the animal, slowing its steps until it no longer had the ability to move. Its charred body hit the ground with a rumbling thud just a few inches from Ima's feet. Her eyes slowly returned to normal as Ima's inner flame began to smolder. Smoke carrying the smell of freshly cooked kodo rose as she felt her shoulders sink. In her frustration she did not notice the shadow stalking her, its great fangs waiting to sink its teeth into its prey. Within an instant it was upon her, leaving her no time to think of a spell. Ima, pinned to the ground, was nose to nose with a great jungle lion.

* * *

Shandori strained to sit up as she felt her weighted body begin to droop. She didn't seem to be the only one with that problem. Christoffel's sweaty-pale head now rested on her shoulder, acidic breath irritating her already burned skin. She could see his eyes frantically moving under their lids as his lips occasionally whispered words she couldn't make out. She looked around as best as her soar neck would allow. Ima was no where in sight or even earshot. Christoffel shuttered violently for a moment, muttering becoming slightly louder. Shandori did her best to straighten up as she put a weak hand on his shoulder.

"Chris…wake up. Wake up." She whispered as the sight of bright green runes started tracing their way long his gaunt cheekbones. The muttering became like a poison on his tongue. Shandori moved to sooth him as best she could, running her fingers along his soaked head only to pull back fingers full of fried black hair. "Ah, shit." Shandori hissed. She winced as her aching arms moved the trembling form beside her to rest in her lap. The shift, while painful, seemed to calm him some. Shandori's plate guards left some open space around her thighs; the leather pants were soft beneath Christoffel's aching head.

* * *

The colors violently swirled around him as what could be considered landscape melted and reformed thousands of times in the blink of an eye. He was tossed about in the tide, lungs filling with burning liquid from a crimson sea. Blood of valiant defenders filled his lungs, causing him to vomit. Christoffel could barely keep his head above the frantic sea when a hand pulled him out. The appendage quickly rotted and festered in his grip. The one who pulled him out of the sea let him fall onto the tiny island and turned away. His eyes met soft blue orbs as one by one his brothers appeared before him. The first pulled him from the bloody water only to shrink away. The next came as a pair of unrecognizable dolls of rotten flesh on bone. What used to be his twin elder brothers glared at him with sockets of, melted blue. Their eyes, or what could be mistaken as eyes, all fixed on him, their lips all formed in hate-filled frowns. Christoffel felt himself shrink in their sight, as the one person he hoped would be absent stepped to the forefront.

"Disgusting." The voice scoffed. The haunting image of Venlyn turned to the others. Blood dripped from his bruised mouth as the sight of the vicious wound in his chest made Christoffel shutter. "There is no justice if this little worm deserves to live after what he's done."

"There is justice, dear brother. He simply does not deserve life." A softer, but still venomous voice replied. The one who pulled him out of the bloody water turned to him, glasses cracked but vision unhindered, with tears in his eyes. "He took the light from me, from us all. Now look at him, he's nothing more than a pathetic wretch." He quickly turned away. Christoffel reached out to his most sensitive brother but the twins, shambling but still quick, stopped him. Christoffel, still on his knees, could feel the small black pit in his chest begin to grow.

"It would be best if you did it yourself." Venlyn coldly spoke as he pulled a rusted sword from his hip. The instrument began to glow a sickening green as became a formidable weapon once more. The shade of Venlyn turned the sword so that the hilt faced the sunken blood elf. The four waited with snarling faces as the inner demons that created them began to shift and hiss in anticipation. Feeling all light sucked from him into the dark pit, Christoffel slowly accepted the blade. The walls of his mind seemed to scream for the release. They cheered as he raised the blade to the base of his throat. But just as he was about to satisfy the urge something jarred him. The small island on which he knelt began to shake. The images of his fallen brothers looked around in confusion. Then another great tremor wracked the red world. The swirling clouds above seemed to crack like painted glass. The water rippled uncontrollably as he felt a gentle grip pull him from the scene. His body began to turn to vapor as two fuzzy lights cracked through the sky. The sight of blue and violet was all that was left of the scene, as everything faded and reality came back into focus.

* * *

"STOP IT DAMNIT!" Shandori cried through the pain. Her legs burned, her muscles felt as if they were tearing under the pressure. She used every bit of strength she had to pin the raving Christoffel against the smooth-barked tree. She had gentle stroked him, even as he turned and vomited on her legs. But suddenly he seemed to wake up and start tearing at himself with clawed hands. It took everything she had to keep him from taking the dagger he pulled from its sheath beside his hip and slashing his own throat. Shandori struck him in the jaw as hard as her weakened arms would allow. As suddenly as the terrible event occurred, Christoffel's body was still. He dropped the fel blade as the pair sank to the ground. His eyes frantically looked for blood skies and endless churning seas but there were none. There was only the tranquil oasis and sounds of birds. He moved his arms around Shandori who could no longer move. He did his best to prop her up, allowing her to rest her head just beyond his shoulder, giving her room to breathe. He could see fresh cuts on her skin and bruises forming where he bit her.

"D-Dori?" He hissed, voice still altered by the amount of dark energy in his system. The sound of rustling in the tall grass made him lazily lift his head. The form of a troll riding on the back of a great horned lion made him wonder if he was still in fact dreaming. At once the world began to spin again and everything went black.

* * *

"How are you feeling?" Ima asked while dipping her fingers in the burn cream. A sleepy grunt was her reply. When Ima finished applying the cream she found Shandori couldn't stay awake. Ima helped the night elf into a fresh sleeping shirt just before she fully submerged into the gentle sleeping tide. The night air chilled them all, save for one newcomer. A massive form hauled a large fallen branch to where the group sat and cracked the great limb like a toothpick. Fur covered his entire body and where a man's head would be was the visage of a bull. His dark fur camouflaged him in the spotty night sky but his imposing size and the light from the roaring fire he helped create kept him well in sight.

"How are your friends, Imajin?" He asked, tossing the branch pieces onto the fire.

"Resting peacefully thanks to you." Ima smiled. When she killed the great woolly kodo she had actually done the druid a great service. Potan Stonehoof had been tracking the beast for weeks as a rite of passage. At first, he thought his travels from Mulgore would be for nothing but once the troll explained her plight he was more than happy to trade his cache of herbs for the beast's horn. He also helped neutralize the access of fel energy within Christoffel with his novice but well studied druidic talents, though he was more often in the form of a lion or bear than a silly tree. When he sat Ima could feel the earth beneath her tremble.

"So what brings you all so close to the Ashenvale border? It's not safe there you know." He rumbled, pulling what looked like a pita filled with grass and cabbage from his knapsack. He took a bite and began to chew.

"We're going to northern Ashenvale to look for the Dryad's Delight plant. I need its seeds for my spell work." Ima informed, poking the warming fire with a small stick. The druid chewed his cud a little more slowly.

"You do know that is a nearly extinct plant…" He rumbled with a visible scowl.

"Yes, but I'll only need to use three seeds of the ten. We were going to sell—er donate the rest to the Cenerian Circle. That is if we find one." Ima's voice trembled a little. She turned from the druid to check on her masters. The pair of elves slept beside each other, as Shandori's presence seemed to make the healing blood elf sleep a little quieter. She smiled a little as she turned back to Potan, poking the fire a little more with her stick. "So will you be heading back to Mulgore in the morning?"

"Yes, as soon as I turn in this horn I will begin a fast and a greater study of meditation and astral channeling." Ima smiled, eyes and ears intent on the switch in conversation.

"My best friend growing up is a druid now. I haven't gotten a letter from her in a while though..." Ima yawned. Her eye lids seemed to droop closed as the night wore on. As the fire smoldered and the first beacon of sunlight came over the horizon Potan took his leave, leaving the three to rest and plan their next move in the morning's gentle rise.


	7. Flea 7: The King of Pain

**Straydog Saga **

_**Flea 7: The King of Pain**_

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* * *

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Elsewhere in The Barrens, a tiny fire burned. A small portable cooking pot hung over a hastily built fire. Within half an hour the two camp dwellers had a meal of cured beef and barley soup. While one struggled to keep his bowl from slipping out of his lap, the other slowly savored every bite. Hanariel looked to the warlock with a slightly worried look.

"I-Is my soup not to your liking?" He softly asked. Keesha dipped her spoon in the warm meal and stirred it slowly.

"No, it's great. It's just been a while since I've had it that's all. A human couldn't have made it any better." She spoke with clouds in her voice. She may not have accepted the meal had the elf's eyes been a burning shade of green. But the blue eyes that occasionally looked to her was a bold statement of dedication in Keesha's mind and a sign of loyalty to those brave souls that died fighting the Horde and those who would join them. Her eyes stared at the base of the fire, images from another time playing in her mind. The smell of the soup brought images of a young woman cutting vegetables, while her mother showed her the proper way to do so. The texture reminded her of mealtimes, when a loving father did his best to be home on time every evening. The taste reminded her of the evening meal that would never come again. The sound of a bowl clanging against a spoon jarred her from her thoughts. Keesha tilted her head to see a red faced Hanariel with the contents of his bowl adorning his legs and the ground. His pale blue eyes trembled a little as he took a deep breath and reached for a dry cloth.

"Are you alright?" Keesha asked, moving a little closer to the injured priest. He shook his head, eyes never meeting hers.

"Yes, it's been a long time but s-still not used to it." He motioned to the empty space where his right arm once was. "I'm right handed; w-well I was right handed. I-It happens." He spoke, voice trembling with embarrassment. Keesha moved and winced a little as her head began to throb from the after effects of the poison. But she managed to help unbutton the top of his bag and began dabbing the dry cloth on the stained parts of his robe. "Thank you…you're very kind for s-someone of the dark cloth." His words made her snort.

"Trust me, had you not helped me, I wouldn't have anything to do with you. Why did you help me any way?" Keesha asked as she turned to wring out the semi-soiled cloth.

"B-Because you could have died."

"So, what's that to you? One less sinner in the world makes it a better place right?" She smirked. The expression faded slightly as he finally turned to view her with a haunted expression. For a priest of the holy light, Lockeesha felt nothing but despair and desolation behind his gaze before he mercifully turned his vision back to the ground.

"If you deserve to die then so do I. D-Despite my wickedness, the light finds me worthy of life and that is why I continue to serve. You may find it s-stupid but I believe the light guides my steps and my steps came to you." He spoke with as steady a tone as he was able to muster. Lockeesha nodded slowly before following the towel and placing it beside his knapsack.

"Honey, I kill people for money and enslave demons to do it. What could you have done that was so terrible?" she snorted. She could visibly see him shrink into his cloak as sounds and memories of his darkest moment began spilling into his vision and dripping from his lips.

* * *

His fellow priests warned him to prepare for the battle, but their words fell on ears too filled with hubris to take in any more sagely advice. Instead he spent the morning in idle prayer, words empty and mind wandering. Hanariel Dawnblade and his brothers had fought the Cult of the Damned many times before and though they were forced to retreat more often than not, they always culled more than they lost. His brothers were great warriors of the Silver Covenant, paladins in their own right though never formally ordained by the human church. While they donned the plated armor of holy knights, the willow-bodied Hanariel stayed behind in the stuffy libraries and chapels of the priesthood. He rode with the Alliance to the heart of Icecrown, where the souls of fallen heroes mingled with the undead slavers that forced their very beings into bondage. Memories of that fateful day seemed to run like an unraveling thread in their minds, when the Sunwell shattered under the dread will of the Lich King. Abominations, ghouls, and still loyal death knights met their vision with their cultist compatriots at the rear. They continually summoned horrific beasts of rotten flesh and bone, ready to claw and bite the noble army into nothing. Despite their father's urging the quintet made their way to the front.

"How many today?" Newly appointed Captain Venlyn Dawnblade smiled as he looked to his brothers for an answer. The twins, Engel and Aslyn, chimed in unison: "No less than 20!" Narlyn boasted that he would destroy 50 of the monstrosities, which made his eldest brother smile wider. Hanariel said nothing as his eyes scanned holy words from the bible that never left his right hand. At once the onslaught was upon them. Their father, a well respected general, gave the order for archers to begin their barrage. At Larion Dawnblade's command, a shower of Quel'Dorei and human made arrows bathed the scourge with a piercing rain. But no matter how horrific the injury the unfeeling beasts shambled forward, many arrows missing their intended targets. The cultists were not deterred, even as some fell to the few arrows that managed to land. They managed to raise ghoul after ghoul, sending their twisted children into the battle.

"For Quel'Thalas! For Lorderon!" Venlyn shouted and reared his armored steed. He charged forward, the rest of the warriors following his brash example. His father cursed, guiding the archers to aimed further back as not to hit his own men. Hanariel's steed hesitated but he managed to coax her forward into a light gallop. The battle quickly escalated as limbs both fresh and putrid began falling to the ground. Venlyn was on his 15th kill when Hanariel finally made it into casting range. His eldest brother had a bloody lip but seemed otherwise capable of leading the charge. He gave a light prayer and blessed his brother, healing the small injury and allowing Venlyn to smite his enemies with more speed. Things quickly moved from a one to one battle to one soldier per three scourge. While his brothers were quickly meeting their quotas, Hanariel felt his shoulders begin to ache. Soon, the sound of soldiers falling under the growling might became too much for the priest and his fellow healers to handle. Time seemed to slow down when the first of his brothers fell. One of the twins, the impish Engel, was struck in the neck by a death knight's dark hammer. Engel's neck snapped back with a crunch and the elf was dead before he hit the ground. Hanariel ran to his brother's side, earnest prayers springing from his lips. But Engel's eyes were blank and lips that once flung the most hilarious jokes no longer drew breath. The death knight grinned, raising his hammer only to be struck down by Narlyn's stinging blade. His intense blue eyes froze for a moment at the sigh as he let out a rage filled roar. Narlyn hacked at the death knight's face and throat, severing the head completely.

"Get up!" Narlyn growled, turning to cut through the body of an attacking ghoul. "The living needs you." Hanariel nodded, sickness pooling in his gut. His shaking legs barely held him as the reality of their situation became more apparent as each noble defender fell. The next of his brothers to fall was Engel's twin Aslyn. The ghouls overtook him and devoured his flesh while he still breathed. His screams echoed in the frozen valley and burned into the warriors' resolve. Soon the call was made to fall back but the brothers at the very front were the slowest to receive the order. Blood covered their once pristine armor. Carnage surrounded them as the lingering soldiers fought to stay alive. Hanariel could hear the sound of breathing in his ears. His lungs seemed to burn as dry lips struggled to speak the healing prayers needed to ensure their escape. He could barely hear Narlyn's anguished cries as Venlyn succumbed to a horrific injury to his chest. Blood gushed from between clinched teeth as limbs went limp. Hanariel shuttered at the expression of hate in Narlyn's tear-filled eyes as the brave youngest soldier charged the scourge, cutting through their bodies as if they were made of snow. He and those bravely following in his wake managed to get to the rear of the thinning scourge and hacked apart the cultists that managed to survive the barrage of arrows until they were unrecognizable as being human. With the cult's reinforcements destroyed the remaining warriors made their final push to drive back the scourge and win the day. But the remaining undead would not go down quietly and Narlyn's burst of rage-driven fervor began to wane. A geist gripped his ankle and pulled him to the ground. He managed to slay the creature but not without suffering grave injury to his knees and ankles. On the ground, bleeding, and muscles exhausted, it appeared as if Narlyn would join the ranks of the departed. Hanariel lost sight of his youngest brother as a shadow loomed from behind. Hanariel quickly turned to find a hulking abomination grinning at him with jagged teeth.

"Pretty toy!" It slurred with a crudely sewn tongue as it raised one of its three arms. Gripping the cleaver tightly with crooked fingers, the abomination brought the cleaver down on Hanariel and a pain so sharp destroyed all thought. He felt the aura of the light fade from his mind as the holy book he carried hit the ground, still gripped in his unfeeling hand. He sank to his knees, the smell of acrid blood threatened to make him vomit. As he felt his body grow cold the world around him seemed to fade into the darkness.

* * *

"…w-when they found me, I was barely alive. The light p-preserved me long enough for my father's aide to find me after the battle." Keesha placed a hand on Hanariel's trembling shoulder. He hid his face beneath a pale blue hood as the fire's embers began to smolder.

"That doesn't sound like your fault at all. I fought the scourge too, seen a lot of things and none of them pretty. Shit happens, you know? I'm sure your brothers wouldn't blame you…" Her words seemed to cause the fragile elf to stifle a small sob. Her eyebrows furrowed and her blood colored lips formed a frown. "Did your fellow lighty whiteys TELL you it was your fault?" she could feel her teeth start to grind against one another as Hanariel looked at her for a moment and nodded.

"I-I did not take the battle seriously enough. I didn't p-prepare properly. Their assessment is correct."

"Typical lighty whitey bullshit." She crossed her arms and turned her gaze to the starlit sky. The little dots twinkled capriciously in her sight as clouds threatened to block the full moon. "So that's why you're going to this tree or whatever?"

"S-Sort of. Mydrassil is said to have strange powers. I've heard rumors that those who touch its roots are transformed, healed. Ghosts walk its roots as if they're alive. Maybe the tree caught their souls too, kept them safe." Hanariel nodded, shifting a little where he sat. The warlock cast him one last snide look before moving to change into her sleeping clothes. Though her act held no shame, he averted his eyes with a slight blush.

"You saved my life and you sure as hell can't make it all the way to the Bay of Storms like that. Not with all those nasty little goblins infesting Az'shara. I'll make sure you get there in once piece err—safely." Keesha smiled when a small but relaxed laugh was his reply.

"I welcome your company, Lady Hazzad." He bowed his head slightly which made her laugh and roll her eyes.

"Call me Keesha."

* * *

Deep in the twisted annals of the Tangled Canals, Archmage Seth Nightgaze kept watch. Dark hands scrolled the surface of a great gem. Within its carefully cut core played the scene of a priest and a warlock preparing to leave their makeshift campsite just before dawn. Lord Nightgaze's snarling indigo lips formed into a sinister looking smile.

"You've come swiftly." He spoke as he turned to see a young looking human mage, no more than 18. Trenton's dark hair fell slightly forward as he closed his deep brown eyes with a bow.

"You know I can not delay when it is you calling, sir." He stood straight as Lord Nightgaze banished the image within the gem and gave his servant his full attention. "What is it you want of me?"

"I have a small task for you; something well within your abilities." He nodded and took a step closer to the young man who did not flinch or move from his attention stance. His eyes, however, moved for Lord Nightgaze to continue. "See to it that Han Dawnblade and Keesha Hazzad get to Mydrassil safely. They will be traveling from The Barrens and are currently headed to the Ashenvale highways." The young man's eyes went wide in surprise. The action made Lord Nightgaze chuckle.

"S-Sir?"

"You were perhaps expecting a kill job? Your time is more valuable than that. No, those two are worth far more to us, far more to ME alive. But…" Lord Nightgaze paused and pulled two drawings from one of the bags he kept on his belt. He handed the images to Trenton who scanned them intently. They were of a night elf warrior and a blood elf rogue. "If you encounter either of those two, kill them on sight. They work for Bodyl and could pose future threats to our operations here. They will be traveling with a troll…or gnome named Imajin. She may pose a threat but she is not to be harmed. I'd never hear the end of it." He sighed, thinking of how much of a headache it would be to have Ima's mentor, Romulus Redmane, barking in his ears if his prized pupil was hurt in any way.

Trenton smiled and bowed again.

"If it is your will, sir it shall be done."

"Good. Once things settle, we shall talk about your request. I have not forgotten." Lord Nightgaze nodded trying to keep his surly expression despite the growing glow coming form his subordinate. "Hopefully these two will prove better than the previous failures."

"That too, is my hope sir."

"You just worry about delivering them here. The Lady and I will take care of the rest. Now go, we have little time to waste here." The moment the archmage finished speaking Trenton vanished.

* * *

The skies over Darkshore never seemed to shine. The grey clouds rolling in from the south reminded Digger of home. Reaching the dark forest had been tricky since the great port of Auberdeen had been destroyed. Though another village had been quickly built in its place, the Night elves were still clearing it of its dangers, and civilian travel was greatly restricted. Her ship sailed further north to the imposing word tree, Teldrassil. From there she was able to purchase a ride on one of the proud looking hippogriffs to the small provincial town of Astranaar. As the pair flew over the canopy, Digger felt the wind start to shift. Her grip on the worn-leather reins tightened. She knew they were headed to Ratchet, but that had been weeks ago. The northwestern part of Ashenvale held their prize. If her old bones and thin self-control would allow it, Digger would shift into her worgen form and run as fast as her legs could carry her. She gave a small prayer in hope that the young warrior would not end up a prize herself.

* * *

The clanging sound of sword on sword caught their attention. Though their mounts would easily carry them away from the fray, Keesha insisted that they investigate. The dread mount she summoned, a horse with burning eyes and hooves like great embers, seemed too eager to investigate as blood on the wind drove it forward. They were in a desecrated area of southern Ashenvale known as the Warsong Gulch. What was once lush forest was rendered a barren field of severed stumps by crude green hands. The area was a hotbed of horde activity and any chance to slay the beasts made the warlock grin.

"We should stay away!" Called Han, who was trotting behind the murder-gazed Keesha. Keesha's mind was quick and the words flew from her mouth before she even had time to think about them.

"Allies might be hurt or killed. You get a chance to stop that." She hissed, the venom clearly piercing Han's weak resolve. When they came to the source of the noise the sight of three blood bathed orcs and a lone human came into vision. The human was covered in gruesome cuts and slashes, but managed to stay standing beneath his steady sword. The orcs suffered from deep burns but the three armored warriors were only a few moments away from claiming another kill until a dark bolt of shadow struck one of them in the chest. The act was enough to send the orc to his back, and the give the other two pause. They snarled and spoke some ghastly language at the newcomers who wasted no time in their assault. Curses flew from Keesha's lips onto her enemies, causing their skin to burn, crawl, and prickle. Her dread steed reared, kicking one of them in the face with searing hooves. The orcs howled, flying into adrenaline-fueled rages as they charged towards them, leaving the fallen orc to be haphazardly stabbed in the throat by the lone human. Han dismounted and gave his unarmored mount a hard slap, sending the steed towards the tree line before lowering his head in prayer. As it always did, the light filled his chest and flew from his outstretched fingers. A golden halo drenched the warlock, allowing no harm to come to her so long as it held. It gave her just enough time to dismount and hiss a summoning spell. Keep two creatures from the neater in tow always strained Keesha's reserves. She banished her steed and just as the holy spell gave way, another joined the fight. Keesha could hear an audible grunt from Han who sank to his knees. It was as if a Tauren had come along and struck him in the stomach with a tree trunk.

"What happened to your friend?" A sinister voice innocently spoke. The gnarled face of the felguard formed into a mocking smile. Keesha glared at the newcomer, uttering a spell of dominance. At once, the demon bowed its armored head and used his mighty fel axe to help dispatch the persevering orcs. Just as it seemed Keesha and Han's work was over, three large fireballs came flying at them. With no time to recover from the felguard's treachery or cast another holy protection spell, Han closed his eyes and braced for impact. But the spells blurred past his ears, heat scalding as they passed. The sound of shrieks rung out in the dusty air when the spells connected with their intended targets. While the pair fought to keep the human alive, other members of the horde had closed in from behind. Another powerful spell flew overhead, striking a troll hunter square in the face.

"M-Move!" The human grunted, spitting out a little of the blood that had been pooling in his mouth. Though his words were slow, the pain each spell delivered seemed to be three times what the normal mage of his young age could produce. When the last of the horde attackers met the ground, the three victors quickly moved towards the sheltering forest. They felt their breath start to slow when there appeared to be no one following. Keesha banished her treacherous felguard, guilt-filled eyes seeking any injury the beast might have caused her tremble-prone companion.

"I-I'm fine—let me tend to him." Han spoke with a slightly steadier voice. The wounds on the young sorcerer were enough to make even the most skilled doctor call the victim's cleric of choice. Dirty blades bit deep into his shoulder and arm while other gashes covered his chest and face. Though the heaves in his chest were shallow, they still came. "Hold still." Han spoke with a voice that felt like a cool breeze. The light surrounded him, funneling into his left palm. He blessed the wounds and they slowly began to close. The damage that went far beyond the skin was cleased and made as if they didn't happen But what two hands could have healed completely, one hand could only mend. Scars were all that was left behind, but the sight of the twisted flesh made the priest look away. "I-I'm sorry I…"

"No, are you kidding?" The young mage looked at the new marks with a spark in his eyes. "Oh man, these are sick!" He chuckled with renewed energy in his expression. He poked through the holes in his raven colored robes with a childish smile as lustful eyes turned to take in the sight of the scantily clad Keesha. "Chicks dig scars, don't they miss?"

"Keesha Hazzad-Miss Hazzad to you." Keesha spoke with a confident tilting of her head. The action brought a bright smile to his face.

"Well Miss Hazzad, perhaps your lovely friend might be able to confirm?" He spoke, charming expression turning to Hanariel. Keesha stifled a snigger while Han's face turned bright red.

"I-I'm not a woman!" He stammered, delicate voice causing a flash of doubt to come across the young mage's face. He shook his head.

"Sorry, man. But you really aren't helping yourself with hair that long you know. Anyway what brings you two this way?" Trenton asked, with a charming smile. Keesha resisted the urg to roll her eyes at the look he was giving her.

"We're headed to Ma-dassil…Mid-drassil. The big ass tree in the middle of the ocean that way." Keesha huffed, pointing in the direction of the eastern oceans. The young mage seemed to perk up at her words.

"You're headed to Mydrassil too? What a fortunate meeting! I was on my way there from Astranaar when I got lost and those horrible orcs jumped me. You're pilgrims I take it?"

"He is, I'm just his insurance policy. How about you err, what's your name?" Keesha said with a nod to Hanariel who still didn't bring his eyes to meet the mage's.

"Oh I'm sorry, I'm Trenton Crowise. And I'm headed there to start an apprenticeship under the great Archmage Nightgaze. Perhaps you've heard of him?" Trenton looked between the two, expressions varying from confusion to having heard the name whispered from those who had been to Draenor and back. "He was among the heroes who vanquished Illidan Stormrage on his perch in the Black Temple." Trenton smugly smiled. Hanariel's eyebrow rose.

"My brother's fiancée fought alongside the s-slayers of Ilidan. She often spoke of her comrades. I've never heard of the name 'Nightgaze'." Hanariel's back straightened a little as Trenton's smile cracked ever so slightly.

"Oh he was there alright and he has much to offer any ambitious student of the arcane arts. Actually, you may have a thing or two to learn from him miss Hazzad. I hear he was able to bend an entire squadron of demons to his will just by looking at them. He might even be able to fine tune that shadow bolt of yours…" Trenton nodded. Keesha began forming s small fire-laden curse in the palm of her hand, which was carefully tucked behind her cloak. A soft hand on her shoulder banished the action. She looked to Hanariel who shook his head with a smell, coy smile.

"It s-sounds like an exciting time for you, young man: meeting an idol and getting the chance to s-study from him and all. But you must be more cautious when traveling alone. P-Perhaps we can help. We're going there anyway, you should travel with us." Hanariel suggested, ignoring the grunts and scolding glances from Keesha. Trenton stood, dusted off his torn robes and smiled.

"It'd be my pleasure."


	8. Flea 8: Let the Bodies hit the Floor

**Straydog Saga **

_**Flea 8: Let the Bodies Hit the Floor**_

_**

* * *

**_

"I think I found one—no, not it's just mageroyal, never mind." Ima shouted with a sigh. She heard a "shh!" from a few paces behind. She winced a little and her voice lowered to a whisper. "Sorry."

"You think you'd WANT the damn sentinels up our asses, gods!" Shandori whisper-hissed as her glowing eyes scanned the underbrush for Ima's reagent. Her skin was covered in scabbed-over wounds and it took everything she had not to scratch them open. Christoffel, still weak from his near fatal overdose, was silent in his search. They were in one of the thickets where the Dryad's Delight was known to grow, when it grew at all. Though they were far from Astranaar, traffic to and from Azshara had increased since the great Tree Mydrassil grew to prominence in the Bay of Storms. Travelers hoping to benefit from the great trees mystic power came in droves, right along the same paths that lead to the Dryad's Delight thickets.

"What does this plant even look like?" Shandori asked, pulling up what smelled like onion grass.

"Its white with a blue sheen. It has blue pollen pods instead of yellow. It sort of looks like…t-tiger!"

"Tiger lily?"

"NO, TIGER!" Ima howled as a great night saber came from its hiding place. Its wild claws cut through Ima's thin robes, allowing a red stain to form. She stumbled back, falling to her side as the horrific looking beast, with scars all over its massive face, lunged forward. Its next attack was not met with flesh or bone, but with the steady sword of a seasoned warrior. Shandori cut into the tiger's paw, causing it to roar but not retreat.

"A little help here Chris!" She grunted, but it appeared that the rogue was nowhere to be found. It wasn't until a pained grunt bore through the roaring did Shandori realized that their attacker was not just some random beast looking for a meal. Though her concentration was on the night saber, her vision caught the sight of Christoffel, fighting with a tall, white haired figure. Despite Christoffel's deftness the fatigue showed through his grimacing expression, the figure managed to leap away, readying his bow. In an instant the rogue was on the defense as arrow after arrow threatened to bring him down. Luckily, he managed to miss a trap that was hidden in his path and continued to dodge the onslaught. Ima stood, ignoring the pain in her leg long enough to concentrate on a spell. She summoned the binding ice from within and sent a frozen lance towards the hunter. The spell connected, slowing his steps enough for Christoffel to gain the upper hand. The tiger, no longer interested in his target, ran towards the rogue in defense of its master.

"Oh no you don't!" Shandori smirked as she grabbed hold of the night saber's tail and yanked hard. The pained howl echoed in the thicket, and was likely heard miles away. It was nothing compared to the noise the animal made when its appendage was cut off by a crude but steady blade. It crumpled to the ground and thrashed, unable to stand or bite through the pain. Shandori leaped past the flailing creature and ran towards where Chris and the hunter dueled. The sight of the familiar face made her utter a spite-filled laugh.

"Well hell-looo again 'MORON' fancy meeting you here." She said, mock-sweet tone twisting with her face into a snarl. Morion Catwhisper didn't have any time to respond to the insult as he found himself fighting three angry mercenaries without the aide of his paralyzed pet. Morion planted his legs on the ground and pushed back as hard as he could. The backward leap sent him several feet away, far enough to send a concussive shot into Shandori's leg. The shot, while it did slow her steps, only added to the rage filling her vision. When the trio finally got close enough to the lone hunter, they could see a visible smirk on his confident looking face.

"Range!" He shouted and with a rustling push, several hidden sentinels burst from the thicket. The stealthy maidens were on them, defending their retired leader's son. Shandori's eyes widened as the sentinels closed in on them, forcing the trio to stand back to back. One of the roguish warriors, a tall night elf woman with long silver hair stood at the forefront with Morion at her side. Ima and Christoffel could not see the color drain from Shandori's face.

"You did well, brother." She cackled. Shandori stifled a sneer.

"Nice mouth. I see you still haven't replaced those teeth I knocked out." Shandori shot back. The words caused the leader to frown for a moment but it was quickly replaced with a cool smile. Christoffel did see a few gaps in Falina Catwhisper's smile but the injuries seemed dim in the shining blades pointed at his heart, eyes, and throat. Morion and Elunis were traveling back from Mydrassil when the hunter decided to visit his older sister who was living in the sentinel barracks at Forest Song. That afternoon's hunt yielded far more than a few pelts or dinner meats. He knew his sister and her scouts would be stalking the grove's darkened paths. During his fight with Christoffel, they signaled him from the darkness and it appeared the blood elf was too intent on killing Morion to notice.

"A few missing teeth can be hidden. Thanks to my brother's handy work…" She seemed to delight in tracing Shandori's feral scars just out of striking range. "Everyone knows who you are: A batterer, thief, and now a traitor. You have two choices, come quietly or we take you and your horde filth to Mount Hyjal in pieces." Falina's nose could rise no higher as a few of the sentinels broke protocol to show their laughing approval.

The glare Shandori gave seemed to travel past the scene as lavender-knuckles clinched her sword. Morion stepped forward as Shandori's rage began to boil behind her eyes.

"Stay outta this, Moron." She growled. Gaze slowly shifting back to the smiling Falina.

"Don't let this trash bother you brother. There is a reason people like her end up as they do…" As Falina flapped her black-painted lips as the bile brewed within Shandori. Memories of her youth bubbled in the muck and sludge that plagued her being. The face she hoped never to see again stood before her, each word spoken causing the heart beating in her ears to rise. Not once had she ever been placed in a situation where she would have to face possibly killing her own kind. Whenever a paper with a night elf face attached passed her vision, she would shuffle her hand, taking on other jobs. But too much boiled within, too many bad memories and ill feelings churned. The looks of scorn on their perfect Elvin faces, the eyes filled with mocking elitism, and the words spoken from the very person who was responsible from her expulsion from sentinel training broke the seal on Shandori's sanity. Not even Ima's concerned words broke through as a roar that would rival Grom Hellscream's erupted form Shandori.

She lunged forward, swinging her sword around, nearly decapitating Falina. With her face sliced open, she hit the ground with a thud. The only thing that saved Morion from a similar fate was the fact that he was married to her younger sister. With that the blades of the rest of the sentinels struck. Ima and Chris struggled to avoid the shining weapons, but Shandori's rage more than compensated. She severed arms, slashed faces, and ruined careers in the process. But in her red-bathed mind all she could see was the faces of those who would see her destroyed, pushed down, and forgotten as trash. She stabbed one of the sentinels square in the chest, twisting the blade and kicking her victim in the leg to retrieve the blade again. Christoffel managed to hold his own, with Ima gaining a distance and freezing their enemies. Morion did his best to tend to his sister's gaping wound. The slash went so deep he could see her teeth through her open cheek. But all he had to do was keep her alive long enough for reinforcements to come. One of the sentinels, still hidden and watching the fray left to get help.

Crumpled bodies hit the ground one by one, but their damage slowed Shandori's swings. Fueled only by rage and memories, Shandori's breath labored with each swing.

"Dori, look out!" Ima cried as one of the sentinels came from behind and raised a small club. She used Shandori's fatigue to her advantage and brought the club down as hard as she could on the back of Shandori's head. With a grunt, Shandori's eyes rolled back and she too met the ground as her victims did. "DORI!" Ima cried, trying desperately to reach her master. She froze the burned and battered sentinels that remained as she rushed to Shandori's side. She sent a burst of flame to the sentinel who reached to slay Shandori while the warrior was unconscious. The sentinel hit the ground, no longer able to move.  
It was then the sound of piercing battle horns rung out in the area. Christoffel's eyes went wide while Ima tried to revive Shandori.

"What is it?"

"Silverwing battle horns…they've got more coming…"

* * *

If he'd left her to her own devices, Ima's chronic case of kindheartedness would have dragged the lifeless warrior until the sentinels were upon them. Christoffel held onto the troll's wrist with all his might, despite the protests and slapping palms. His stomach lurched as the slowly fading image of the fallen Shandori became like a carcass being descended upon by silver-winged carrion. But despite the bile in his throat his eyes were fixed on the path ahead of them. His feet fleetly carried them farther and farther from the vengeful night elf warrior elites. Hidden roots and tangled branches seemed to move in his path. The forest belonged to the night elves and their will, it seemed as sharpened twigs and needles began finding their way onto his tender skin. Ima began dragging her oversized feet, which caused Chris to finally turn his head.

"We can't leave her like that! I can carry her, let me go!"

"She's theirs now, there's nothing we can do!" He hissed as a thorn nearly landed in his glowing green eyes.

"You didn't even try!" She shouted, voice quivering slightly. "They'll kill her!"

"Try? Try to what get us killed? There are too many!" Christoffel grunted, eyes furrowing.

"She needs us, STOP!" Ima spoke, trying to yank her hand away but Christoffel's grip held firm. They came to a small clearing in the woods, where the wisps silently watched the spectacle.

"Has the little slave fell in love with her master?" he said with a spite-filled smirk. But all it earned him was a firm yank to the ground and a large blue foot on his aching chest.

"What are you doing, they're coming!" He gasped, trying to sit up but Ima weighed him down.

"I don't leave anyone behind…never again." Ima said, with a small tear falling down her cheek. She lifted her foot from his chest, allowing him both to breath and roll back onto his feet. "You can go if you want to. I'll face them myself."

"Stupid!" Christoffel didn't have time to fade into the shadows. The sentinels were there, lining the rim of the grove. Five pairs of glowing eyes stared them down but while Chrisoffel's back curved under the glares, Ima stood boldly on. She waited, red eyes meeting one of the soldiers who were equally unflinching. They inched forward, each step silent and nimble, glaives an blades at the ready.

"You're trespassing." A voice that could chill the depths of hell hissed in proper common. At once a tarnished glaive flew through the air, the bits that still shined caught the small bits of light that pierced the forest canopy. In one motion the glaive knocked the weapons from the sentinels' hands, causing them to take a step back. Christoffel could hear them muttering to one another in Darnassian. Smiles and spite filled laughter made Christoffel's blood run a little slower as they began receding back into the shadows. He could only make out the common words that his languages and the old language both shared: "crazy, "woman," "horde," and "dead."

"They're leaving?" Ima wondered aloud as all signs of the sentinels vanished. But She and Christoffel were far from alone in the wispy grove. One other still stood with them, an old glaive in her steady hand.

"As I said." she growled with a slightly twitching eyelid. "You're trespassing." Ima studied the figure. She was an older night elf with deep lines beneath her eyes. What was once long, luxurious violet hair in her seemingly endless youthful days was now cut at the chin, a faded white, and unkempt. What was left of her splendid armor was nothing more than tarnished scraps of metal and leather held together by memories and strained threads. All that remained of her once lavish cloak was torn scraps of cloth that barely covered her sturdy form. Ima put on a shaking but diplomatic smile and took a step towards the woman whose glaive did not move. Christoffel resisted the urge to stop her, as any sudden movement could trigger a speedy attack from the "crazy woman."

"As a student of Dalaran, I've worked side by side with members of the alliance; my friend and I mean you no harm. We're very sorry for the intrusion but the sentinels found us and – EEP!" Ima's explanation was cut short as the large gap between her and the woman was closed in a matter of seconds, with a tarnished but still sharp blade at her throat.

"I do not care who you are with or how you found your way here. Why are you here?" The steely voice spoke, casting a quick but threatening glance to Chris, in case any adverse action crossed his mind. She leaned a little closer to the troll, bringing the blade all the closer to her sweating flesh. Words flew from Ima's mouth: about how she had become a student at Dalaran but needed money for school supplies and reagents. She took a job where she met the blood elf beside her and a very smart-talking night elf warrior. After an unfortunate turn of events her true nature as a troll was revealed and she pledged her time and loyalty to her new masters. In a stroke of kindness, they were assisting her in gathering reagents, despite personal risk when they were ambushed by sentinels and were forced to run. Christoffel resisted the urge to curse several times. Not only had she spelled all the gory details of their exploits but she irrefutably tied them to a night elf criminal. He braced himself for a battle that never came. Instead the intense look in the night elf woman's eyes waned a little as she shook her head.

"You are…something else." The old woman smiled. "The sentinels will not come here, you will be safe. I make my home in a cave not too far from here. I may still have some thistle tea…"

"What?" the sharp word managed to pierce Christoffel's iron resolve. The old woman's head snapped to him like a viper's bite.

"Do I stutter?"

"No my lady, its just that…you were ready to kill us as one minute and now you offer us shelter…why?" His words caused a small smirk and bitter laugh to come from her lips. The whips that floated by seemed to stop in anticipation of the old woman's words.

"I have wasted a great deal of time hunting one of my own kind. I have never met anyone with a heart so black, alliance or horde, since. And though I claimed victory over him, taking his pathetic life, in the end he still won. I suppose the point is this one could have easily lied to me about the nature of your presence here. I know her words are true because if you had been any louder in your search for Dryad's Delight you'd have brought the whole of Azeroth upon you." She smiled as Ima began to blush. "Do you forsake my generosity?" She looked to Christoffel who cautiously shook his head. "Good, then follow. Night will be coming soon and there will be more than sentinels hunting you. She turned with what would have been a grand flourish had her cloak been intact. Ima and Chris looked to one another, his gaze causing hers to faulter.

"What have you gotten us into?" he hissed, causing Ima to wince a little.

"How about into not getting killed." She quietly squeaked. She looked to the old woman's back and coughed a little. "Mam, I hate to seem rude but, I didn't get your name?" she offered causing the old woman to slow her steps. She tilted her head down and thought for a moment. Her face went blank, but the only ones who could see the sorrow in her eyes were the capricious wisps.

"I used to be called, Maiev Shadowsong."

* * *

The smoke from a whitewood pipe rose to prominence as the smell of burning sage and tobacco came to Orifiel's nose. The mingled scents did not irritate her but she often stifled coughs if the burning remnants became too strong. As she lie in her large, lavish bed, Orifiel rolled onto her back as the one beside her was careful not to let his pipe smoke travel to her lungs. Despite the haze the sight of Seth's strong shoulders and usual pensive expression brought a small smile to her face.

"Must you do that here? People know I don't smoke." She softly spoke, tracing idle circles on her mate's bare chest. Seth gave a quick frown as he snuffed the small flame at the tip of his long nail out.

"I simple can not help myself." He drawled, turning to exhale through his nostrils away from the Whitebranch Steward.

"The sage smell I can explain away. Use less tobacco next time. There have been whispers…" She said pulling herself up to rest her head on her lover's shoulder. A slow grunt was her reply.

"If it is that important, I will be more discrete with my habit…next time." Orifiel leaned up and placed a long, though chaste kiss on his temple. The priestesses of Elune and druidic vessels of the emerald dream often voiced their distain for the highborne and Dalaran elites that studied the chaotic Pinnacle Bow. The response from those of arcane inclination was only more of the same. Orifiel frowned at the thought of the scandal and unrest that would flow through Mydrassil like a terrible fire if the steward-priestess and the arch mage were known to share a bed

"I appreciate it. Oh and have you talked to Trenton yet?"

"Mmm. Yes, he is with the next set as we speak."

"Good. I hope he gets them here in one piece." Orifiel nodded and sat a little straighter. Seth cast her a scolding gaze, which only made her smile.

"I have no reason to doubt his abilities or his willingness."

"No, but he has a habit of making games out of things. Hopefully he'll be a bit more serious this time."

"He will. I believe he learned his lesson from the last set. And if he wishes to fulfill his goals, he will be serious this time." Seth shrugged, exhaling another cloud of earthy fragrance.

"Yes, he and Inge have grown restless these past few years. Hopefully this Hanariel Dawnblade's story holds true. Who did you say he was with again?" Orifiel asked, doing her best to stifle a yawn. Seth drained the last remnant of earthy life from his pipe before snuffing out the remains.

"A warlock of some ill repute. But I did a bit of digging and as it happens she is one of those who slaughtered Arthas, the Lich King at his highest hour. It is something the Argent Dawn and the Alliance havr done their best to keep quiet. As if those of the dark cloth do not exist in the taking back of this word." He bitterly snorted. Seth placed his whitewood pipe on the small oak table beside him and turned to face his mate. All harsh lines seem to disappear from his face at the sight of her. Though her hair never seemed out of place and her steps seemed to never falter outside of her bedroom walls, Orifiel's shoulders always seemed to hunch under his private gaze. A delightful blush always beckoned his lips to smile, and if he was lucky, she would clumsily knock something over, flailing desperately to ensure the item did not break. Something in his golden eyes made Orifiel's heart skip a beat. She knew that look, as she had seen it every night before the start of her final rounds. She brought a hand to stroke his bearded cheek.

"Can you skip rounds tonight?" He asked, snaking an arm around her bare waste and pulling his priestess a little closer. Orifiel felt her chest and cheeks grow hot and her knees begin to slightly shake. Despite the rush of warmth and the arms drawing her closer, she closed her eyes and shook her head.

"I would like that, but I have job to do…" She found her words cut off by a pair of worn but soft lips. The heat became overwhelming as sheets shifted once again and duty seemed to float away with the scent of sage and tobacco smoke.

* * *

"Ow! What?" Trenton huffed, rubbing the back of his head.

"You know what you did. Now shut the fuck up before I stuff a soul shard up your-"

"Keesha, don't." Hanariel softly sighed. It seemed as if the pair hadn't enjoyed a silent moment since the young mage's arrival. His comments spoke to his age and they were easily ignored for the first hour or two. When the subject turned to maters of fashion and uniform, Trenton's unfortunate observations about Lockeesha's scant garb set him on the dangerous path he tiptoed. But the sun was beginning to set in western Azshara and so too did the patience within the warlock.

"It was a compliment!" Trenton insisted, hands ready to block thrown spells, shoes, or stones.

"I don't see how being told I have fat ass is a compliment!"

"I didn't say it was FAT I said its…er…distractingly ample. I mean in your garb – it leaves little to the imagination is all." He nodded, looking to Hanariel for some sort of escape. But the priest kept his eyes on the path in front of them. The strange wood was once home to legions of vile naga but since the establishment of Mydrassil they were rarely seen so far from the shore.

"You gunna let this punk ass kid talk to me like that Han?"

"L-Leave me out of this."

"Whatever. The sooner we get to Mid-rassil the better. Get on with my damn life…" Keesha muttered. The dark sky seemed to grow brighter the further they traveled in the direction of the coast. As they came over the edge of large hill, the sight of a bright light in the distance overtook the paled glowing of the moon. The great branches slightly swayed in the magic-laden sea wind as its strong roots disappeared beneath the waves. A small, warm light sparked in Trenton and Hanariel's eyes.

"Look it's, Mydrassil!" Trenton announced.

"M-Mydrassil?" Hanariel asked, with his usual tremor slightly more pronounced.

"Its only a big ass tree." Keesha scoffed, two hissing "SHH!'s" were her only replies. For a long moment as the two men continued to marvel at the glistening behemoth. Each twinkle of its multi-colored leaves seemed like a warm stroke to their hearts.

"My professor told me there is a checkpoint on the shore we have to go through and after that we can catch a boat ride to the main gate. The goblins have a trade agreement with the Whitebranch Initiative. I suppose their loyalty to coinage trumps all." Trenton's voice shook with excitement, as his aura seemed to pull the others like a child's willful hand pulling his parents towards the window of a candy shop. A great set of steps built on the side of the step cliffs made it possible for them to decide safely onto the sandy beach bellow. A torch-lit checkpoint lay just out of tides reach, with a humble dock to the rear. As they approached they could see a line of people formed just outside the perimeter of the checkpoint. The guards seemed to ask for something tangible, as the people in queue quickly produced ten gold coins and the empty seems of their pockets. When the trio had their turn the guard taking their fair gave the handsome young mage a double take. Trenton smiled wickedly at him for a moment before handing him a note. The human guard took the note with a steady hand and read it quickly.

"A-Ah, I see you three travelers are here to see the Archmage." He spoke is his straightest voice. The guard had spoken with Trenton weeks before; strange instructions with little to no explanations were tucked away in the back of his helmet, nearly forgotten. He did his best to hold back his uncertainty as he felt the piercing gaze of the lovely female warlock on his person.

"Yes we are good sir. We're in a bit of a hurry…"

"Yes, move along. Move along." He said with a forward wave of his hand. Two of the three stepped towards the lantern-let dock. Keesha turned to head back towards the stairs. Trenton stopped for a moment and turned to see a black-cloaked back rustling towards the Cliffside.

"Lady Hazzad, where are you going?" He nervously laughed, taking off in a light jog towards her. Hanariel waited on the doc, taking in the strange smelling sea air.

"I told him I'd get him here safely. I got him here safely." She said, her feet not slowing in the slightest. Trenton moved and spoke quickly as his nimble mind churned out reasons for her to travel to the tree. When it seemed all of his ideas failed to halt her quickening steps, Trenton's last resort came.

"But Lady Hazzad, you simply must meet the Archmage. He'd be interested to finally meet one of the King slayers in person!" He nearly crashed into her stiffened back as Keesha seemingly turned into a living statue. She turned to him with suspicion and a tinge of fear in her deep brown eyes.

"Who told you that?" When no answer came, she reached up and roughly grabbed him by the collar. Careful not to shout and cause the lingering guards to intervene, she repeated the question in a venomous hiss: "Who told you?"

"Word gets around among those of the dark cloth, my lady. I am a mage but that doesn't mean I like to keep the company paladins, either. You're an inspiration to my friends. And as a dark slayer of great evils himself, I think the Archmage would appreciate your company. I honestly do." Trenton quickly spoke. They locked eyes for a moment; dark orbs meeting ones that barely held back the tempest. Keesha let him go and sighed, rubbing her forehead.

"I really don't get you…"

"If you come, I'll pay for all your meals for a week. And I hear there are creature comforts there too: shops, dance halls, spas, you know girlie things." Trenton suggested. She scanned his features, which seemed to resemble a dog who was desperate for his new master to follow. A small smirk came to her face as she placed both her hands on his tense shoulders.

"I'll go on one condition."

"Name it."

"Never talk about my ass or any other body part of mine ever again."


	9. Flea 9: Prison Blues

**Straydog Saga **

_**Flea 9: Prison Blues**_

_**

* * *

**_

The sound of floorboards creaking under heavy metal boots brought her buzzing mind back to consciousness. The burns from the warlock's spell felt like a light rash compared to the throbbing in the back of her head. She could hear muffled voices speaking in her native tongue but the humming in her aching head blocked any understanding. Sitting up from her place on a cold comfortless ground, Shandori felt the air around her grow cold. The smell of dirt and tree-magic did little to sooth her headache nor her mind. She tried to pull her cloak around her goose-bump laden arms only to realize all the sentinels had left on her was her shirt and trousers.

"Well shit…" She hissed. The slight movement of her jaw sent a shocking pain to her temples.

"Look who's up." A sassy-sounding voice spoke from somewhere beyond one of the root-threaded walls of her prison. Shandori, vision still blurred only could hear the occupant in the next cell move closer to the wall. "I didn't think they'd find ya this fast. I would have figured at least tree months." Her thick accent and manner of speaking was commonly heard in Booty Bay and other cities where large amounts of goblins congregated. As her vision brought the sight of a red-haired goblin woman into focus, Shandori slowly shifted and attempted to reply.

"What are you talking about?" She managed to choke, throat drier than she realized.

"You're that Shandori right? The one from the postas?" She asked as if it were common knowledge. The other prisoner could not see the look of confusion on the night elf's face.

"What? What posters?" There was a brief silence before a long "ohhh…" escaped the other prisoner's lips. Her large green ears slightly sank.

"You don't have a clue do you? You know you have a bounty on your head? A generous one too." The other prisoner waited for a response but all she received was a shocked gasp. "I guess not." The goblin woman tried to reach one of her long-fingered hand through the threaded bars, but magical wards sent a shock through her tiny body when she tried. She paused for a moment, clutching her injured hand.

"Name's Fabrizzia Bomberlock. But all my friends call me F-Bomb. How's your head? They roughed you up good when they tossed you in here. You'd think they were handling a drunk orc 'er somethin'." F-Bomb commented, checking to see if any of her long, pointed nails were damaged. Shandori slowly shook her head.

"Everything hurts. I can't believe that awful spiteful bitch put out a bounty on me." Shandori hissed, mind turning to the only logical person who would place a bounty on her own child. She banished the image of the one who gave her life from her frayed mind.

"Yeah well, it could be worse. Least we're still in Ashenvale." F-Bomb shrugged. Her onyx eyes saw a slight spark of hope rise with Shandori's head.

"We're not at Hjyal?"

"Are you kiddin me? Tree months ago I wander a little too close to a sentinel outpost. Those purple harpies, no offence, jumped me and accused me of being involved with the Horde. Just because a few stinkin slaves go pick a side, they think we all did. They questioned me once or twice then through me in here ta rot! The guy in numba tree killed his brotha in a knife fight about a year ago. Stuck here waitin on a trial. The drunk in numba five's been in and outta here five times since I've been here. I wouldn't worry about being transferred for a good long time, sweetie." F-bomb spoke in the closet thing her abrasive voice could come to soothing. Shandori's head and spirits sunk under the weight of her current predicament. Without armor or weapons she had little ability to escape and any chance she would see the light of day as a free woman again would be in the hands of the few people she did not call "enemy."

* * *

"Bird!" A young voice chirped as her smiling teacher gave her a soft praise. Romulus placed the card back on the small stump-table at which they sat and picked up another card. The child paused for a moment, with a pensive look on her young face. "Kuh..kuh…" She tried to pull the word for the image from her mind but the effort seemed to be like looking for the small black animal in the dark. She knew the small ears, long tail, and the soft purring noise it made but the word refused to pass her lips.

"You can do it Inge. Sound it out. Kuh-Ah…"

"C-Cat!" the little girl raised her hands in triumph as her teacher cheered. A sound of rusling came from behind as Orifiel entered the colorfully decorated room with a smile. The little girl pointed to the new comer, and with little effort shouted the word "Ri-Ri!" Romulus paused and turned to see Orifiel standing there with her arms outstretched. The little girl looked to her teacher first and only left the table at his nod. Romulus turned to see the pair embrace, Orifiel hard pressed to separate the little one from her side.

"How are the lessons going?"

"She's doing much better than we could have hoped. She knows bird, boy, cat, dog, song, me, you. We may get to whole sentences within the month, won't we?" He said, giving Inge a gentle pat on the head.

"She's a very special girl. Someday you'll be talking all our ears off wont you?" Orifiel spoke to the child with cheer in her voice but a concealed sorrow in her eyes. She did her best to ensure the memories of that horrible day when she found Inge locked away in a cage, waiting to be sold in the hellish underground markets did not escape her glowing orbs. Inge's bright smile did not waver. "I take it a progress report on her lessons is not why you called me so urgently." Orifiel smiled, quickly moving her hands to tickle the child who squealed in horror and delight. Romulus laughed and motioned for Inge to find escape in his arms. Orifiel stopped her assault, allowing the girl to dash to Romulus's side. He picked her up and placed her on his broad shoulder.

"No, less cheerful business I'm afraid. We can talk on the way to the nursery." Romulus motioned for Orifiel to follow as he exited the small classroom. They passed by a few other rooms where the children of those in the alliance forces could study subjects or trades. When they got to a less populated hallways, Romulus's lips began to move.

"I have reason to believe one of our spies has been captured. When I went to check their position this morning, I found my tracker to be in the hands of the Silverwing Sentinels. I couldn't see clearly through the gem, but it looked like a prison block."

"And you're concerned this may affect our monitoring?"

"Yes. The other gem was nearly destroyed during the fight with the warlock woman. The sound is hazy and the images intermittent. When and if Bodyl contacts them again, we'll have no way of knowing short of sending a spy and we don't have many to spare." Romulus sighed, receiving a pat on his head and a concerned look from the child on his shoulder. He quickly smiled at her and the look of apprehension disappeared.

"Didn't you give your student a necklace?"

"Yes, but bless her heart she keeps it buried in her fetish purse..."

"Well if the necklaces are lost, buried, or destroyed then we'll simply have to ramp up security. My old friends from Draenor will be arriving soon. They slaughtered Illidan, they will make quick work of Bodyl's vile minions. If Trenton weren't already occupied I'd send him..." Orifiel nodded, offering her hand to Inge who gratefully grabbed her index finger and began to swing it as far as her little arm would allow. Romulus's smile only remained for the sake of Inge but the look in his eyes made Orifiel's heart grow a little cold.

"From what little I could gleam from the broken necklace: the blood elf and Imajin are resting in the home of the one who finished off Illidan, or so I hear. If Bodyl gains her as an ally…I don't even want to think about it."

"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it." Orifiel smiled, placing her other hand atop the tiny one that still clutched her finger. They reached the nursery just in time for Inge's lunch, which was waiting for her and the other 12 children who dwelled within. The Nanny nearly had to pry the screaming child from Romulus and Orifiel's company but the smell of honey and the human delicacy of ham and cheese sandwiches quickly quelled her tantrum. They waved goodbye and left Inge to savor her lunch.

"How is Seth doing in his endeavors?"

"Well Trenton managed to get them here in one piece." Orifiel snorted. Romulus smiled and shook his head.

"I hope it works out for you. It's not right for the two of you to be constantly sneaking around this place like horny school children." Orifiel shrugged at the sentiment.

"To the night elves a priestess and a mage of our station having an affair would be like a high ranking human paladin taking a warlock as his mistress." She quickly quieted her voice as a pair of mages passed them, paying them a nod and greeting.

"I understand. That still doesn't make it right or fair. Oh well, things will happen as they are supposed to." Romulus nodded. Orifiel smiled and looked out of one of the great open windows to the turbulent sea.

"That's the best we can hope for."

* * *

Maiev poured the thistle tea with a hand that moved with the very remnants of elegance itself. But the calluses and scared over cuts silenced the motion, nearly unheard in the sparkling night. The fire she built warmed their food: a simple hunk of bread and the left over meat from a young buck that wandered too close. After an arduous day of fruitless planning, Ima chose to go to sleep early, near the cave in a hidden patch of tall grass. Christoffel lent his stair to the crackling flames the contrasted his own twin orbs. The fallen huntress broke his concentration with a plate full of warm food.

"Eat." She grunted. The sound made him jump a little. He nodded and took the food, casting a momentary glance at the plate but smelling no trace of poison.

"You're kind."

"Hardly. Just eat it." She hissed, taking a big bite from her own dinner. Christoffel hesitated, so much wanting to come from his mouth rather than to be filled through it.

"I am still unclear on why you're harboring us. Last time I was in Ashenvale your girls did plenty to drive me out and I was an alliance supporter at the time." She cast him one of her startling gazes, and it seemed no matter how many times she did so, he always felt a jolt through his spine.

"Lets get a few things straight, blood elf. Those slack-jawed little hyenas are not "my girls" and frankly I find your kind repulsive. What I wish to know is how a fel-addicted degenerate like you and that confused troll have spent an entire day plotting a rescue mission for a night elf criminal rather than fleeing to the Warsong Lumber Camp." Her sharp words stabbed every inch of his consciousness but Christoffel not only managed to keep himself from falling over, but also compose a counter attack.

"No insult intended my lady, but how does a legendary huntress become a broken-down old hermit?" Christoffel found himself under her gaze once more, swallowing more than just his food. But no assault came as she turned to look at the crackling wood, consumed by the fire that gripped it.

"I believe there is a phrase in common that suites your answer perfectly." She said casting him a quick glance and uttering "Shit happens" before resuming her vigil. Christoffel nodded and gratefully took another large bite of his supper to silence any further snarky remarks. It was then, a shrill scream rung out in the otherwise placid night. In an instant plates were deftly placed on the ground and the pair of elves were on their feet. They rushed out of the small cave to investigate the sound, only to face a pair of glowing eyes and glistening fangs.

* * *

Ima couldn't sleep. The ground was soft and the grass on which she lay seemed to be a further cushion. The night itself was calm and beaconed her eyelids to close but the churning feelings within overtook the peaceful scene. Ideas raced to her mind but one by one she was able to pluck the plausibility apart like a fragile flower. In her musing she did not hear the slight rustling behind here. She did not see the glowing gaze fixed upon her not the great maw that could crunch her neck in two. It was not until the great beast was upon her did she realize it was there. She let out a frightened scream as the beasts great paw came down on her chest. She closed her eyes as the muzzle approached, hot breath reeking like rotten meat. It took the troll a few seconds to realize she had not been bitten, but was being sniffed.

"Ah, its you Blow-Torch." The beast rumbled, moving off of Ima and onto her old, grey-furred haunches. "Where's Rabbit Ears?" Ima couldn't believe her eyes, as a relieved smile came to her face.

"Digger, what are you doing here?" Ima asked, as two figures, hidden in the night shadows began to immerge. Diggers ears perked as she turned with a menacing snarl to see two fell blades and a circular glaive at her back. "Chris, its ok she's Digger!" Ima quickly squeaked.

"An acquaintance of yours I take it?" Maiev quickly spoke, glaive unmoving. Digger's grave expression lessened as Ima moved to her side.

"Yes we met her on our way back from Silverpine forest, she helped us get here." Ima informed. Maiev once again inspected the innocent eyes of any kind of duplicity and found none. She lowered her glaive, Christoffel following suit.

"What brings you here?" Maiev asked, full attention resting on Digger. Unlike the blood elf, Digger found no chill in her bones.

"Warning Rabbit Ears. She's got a bounty on her head, sentinels are looking for her…where?" The look on Ima's face was enough to make her heart sink. "Taken?"

"Yes. We were ambushed and things got ugly fast. We barely escaped with our lives." Christoffel confirmed. Digger's gnarled claw found its way to the ground, carving deep scars in the soft soil.

"Damnit, too slow." She snarled, sending bits of dirt and grass flying beneath her striking claw. Maiev calmly watched the scene, feeling herself slip back as voices became muffled, images became blurry. A dark specter appeared in her damaged mind, one that haunted her ever since she became consumed by vengeance and the hunt. Only after the one it was modeled after was slain did it become tangible to her. Its bandaged eyes gazed mockingly at her as its snarling face rose to a smile.

"Disgusting, isn't it?" Its voice was seductive but burned with a poisonous vapor. "Such devotion to a caged animal, to a criminal." It purred, hot breath in her ear. It lingered for a moment before speaking again. "So much energy spent on someone so undeserving." Its voice was barely above a whisper as time seemed to stand still. It a snap it grabbed a claw full of faded white hair and pulled her head back. From somewhere deep beyond its searing tongue came a screech that seemed to originate from the darkest pit of hell. Her whole body ached as she scrambled to cover her ringing ears.

"Ms. Maiev, are you alright?" Ima asked, noticing the shaking huntress drabbing her ears in pain. Maiev sunk to her knees, muttering incoherently. Ima carefully placed a hand on one of Maiev's trembling shoulders, right where the specter's head gave its ghastly call. Slowly, the shaking began to subside. The muttering stopped and things began to come into focus again. One worried face, one face with an eyebrow raised, and one face drenched in shock met her cleared vision as she cleared her throat.

"I-I'm fine now, thank you."

"Maiev…Maiev Shadowsong by chance?" the shocked looking worgen panted, moving a little closer to where Maiev knelt. The Maiev who vanquished Illidan wore similar, if not dilapidated style of armor and did appear to be around the same age as the famous huntress. Maiev gave a curt nod as the worgen shook her head.

"You probably don't remember me, I've changed much since the great raid of the Black Temple." The worgen closed her eyes and with a little trouble shifted back into her human form. "I fought the final battle with Illidan, he nearly had us beat when you showed up and handed him his ass on a plate. I still had brown hair back then…" Maiev inspected the human that sat beside her and faint memories of a stocky young human covered in blood but determined to see the fight to the bitter end came to mind.

"There was a human girl who fought. I remember, her name was Mary…Merla…"

"Meryld actually." Digger smiled, happy with what little the great hero could remember. "Its good to see you again mam. People said you were dead."

"Lets keep it that way…" Maiev sighed. A blood elf, a troll, and now a great alliance hero had their lots thrown in with a petty criminal. Only one thought graced Maiev's questioning mind: What sort of person WAS this Shandori Sagesmoke?

* * *

On the evening of her 70th birthday Falina Catwhisper's sentinel sisters presented her to the Forest Song Medical ward staff. The night was dizzying. Stars spun as a haze of hurried voices surrounded the fallen sentinel leader. Falina tried to speak but her mouth was clamped shut. Her thin consciousness could smell and taste the metallic sensation of blood. The vague visage of her younger brother came in close as his trembling hand seemed tangled in her weak digits. With a rush she felt a sensation like falling off the edge of a cliff. Her eyes closed and when they opened again, the sunlight bathed her clearing mind. At her bedside, her brother and his wife kept vigil, relief in one set of eyes and guilt in the other. Falina tried to speak, but despite her renewed clarity, thick bandages rendered her mouth unable to move.

"Sister, don't." Morion spoke with a shaking voice, sight unable to bare the sight of her mangled and swollen face. The vicious attack by Shandori nearly took her head off. Luckily, Shandori's blade was guided by rage and not skill, rendering the blow too short to sever anything truly vital. Instead the blade sliced through her cheeks, knocking out several more teeth in the process. Though the blood that gushed from the terrible wound was great, the healers and surgeons were able to save her life and did what they could to save her face. Falina's gaze slipped to the young woman beside her brother. The green-haired druid with the slight bulge in her belly focused on the floor. Falina reached out to her, Morion stopping the movement. "You must rest."

It was then she heard a shutter and the tears that streamed down Elunis' hot cheeks became apparent. Each time she caught a glimpse at the ravaged beauty and horrific wounds her own blood caused, she felt another wave of hot wetness fall from her dimmed eyes. Falina submitted to her brother's command and in doing so allowed him to comfort his sobbing wife. Falina ran what was left of her tongue in the soar that was her mouth, noting the lack of bone within. Her brow furrowed, memory of the event rising in her mind like a thunderstorm. The searing pain in her face coupled with the crunching sound of bone before the world began to spin into darkness.

* * *

"I can't believe she would do this." Elunis sobbed, clinched fist over her mouth. Morion put a hand on her shoulder and spoke soothing whispers into her flushed ear. Elunis leaned forward, stung eyes finally meeting her sister in laws. "I was saving money for a birthday present but I didn't have time to get it after our visit with mother. I'll take the money and use it for the surgery, OK? You're going to be ok." She spoke, trying her best to sound comforting. Falina looked at her but did not see the good intention. She could feel the raging storm in her mind, dark clouds swirling around a growing intent. If she survived the final facial surgeries she would carry out the veiled vow revealed in her renewed hatred. Shandori Sagesmoke blazed in her very being and if the dark intentions within came to fruition, the inspiration for the tormented image would be destroyed.

* * *

Shandori amused herself with a loose pebble from her jail's earthen wall. The floorboards creaked, as they always seemed to do. But the sound of several pairs of boots descending the staircase into the jail was new since her arrival. The sounds of snarling struggle descended the steps as two strong sentinels struggled with their charge. A towering black wall of claws and teeth roared in outrage, nearly sending the sentinels for a tumble down the earthen stairs. But despite the challenge no one fell, save for the new prisoner who was forcefully shoved into his cell.

"Greymane will ear about this!" He boomed as the sentinels walked back towards the steps without sparing a moment to look back. "Fuckin 'ell" He growled with strike to the dirt floor. His ears perked at the sound of movement from across the way. His glowing gold eyes took in the sight of a female night elf with long indigo hair and a female goblin who managed to still wear layers of caked on make up despite having very little on her person. The worgen shifted a little and cast the pair a toothy smile.

"Well ello there. At least the mugs in this jail are better than the last one."

"What are ya in for?" F-bomb asked, big pained lips forming a grin. The worgen gave a smiling nod for a bow before speaking.

"Name's Marcus Daggerfang. Thief by trade, scoundrel by choice, and all around good fella." He chuckled. The good humor was not lost on Shandori who found herself smirking for the first time in days. "And I was in the woods, mindin me own business when I stopped to take a piss. Apparently, I so happened t piss on some sacred tree of elder wisdom or somethin. So a bunch of night elf lovelies pop outta ta woods and 'ere I am." Daggerfang's cheery tone did not seem to diminish through his tale, leaving F-bomb and Shandori with incredulous looks on their faces. "How about you?"

"Case of mistaken identity wit me." F-bomb informed with a sigh. Shandori stopped to think about her charges with a shrug.

"I'm not sure exactly. But I did take out one stuck up bitch on the way in here so I'm sure I've had a bunch of charges added to whatever bullshit ones they brought me in for." She growled. Daggerfang shrugged and sniffed around for a moment, a slight grimace forming on his muzzle.

"By Greymane I hope that mess they're cooking up dere is not our suppa." He rumbled, sniffing the air once more. "I don't know about you ladies but I'm not planning on sticking around ere too long if they're feedin us…earthroot…silverleaf? A touch of salt….blah." He spoke which smacking his lips with a frown.

"What do you mean stick around? This is a prison not a Pilton hotel!" F-bomb snorted. It was then that a confident, dagger-fanged grin came on to the rogue's wolf-face.

"Oh, I'm sorry m'lady. Perhaps you aven't eard of ol' Dagerfang the un-caged." With a slight flourish, Daggerfang moved as close to the hallway as the bars of his cage would allow. His three- fingered claw motioned for the night elf and goblin to come within whisper range. They both seemed to move in unison. Daggerfang paused for a moment, ears moving to catch any sound from beyond the ceiling and any faint scent of a stealthy sentinel hidden within the jail. When no sound nor smell came to his senses his mouth began to move. "I've busted outta every jail I've ever been in, horde and alliance. Th'trick is, they always look in th'obvious places for things like in your naughty bits and the like. But they never, ever seem ta think ta check in ear." Daggerfang pointed upwards and in a quick, almost magical motion, pulled a small metal pin from the fur behind his ear. He twirled the little dark-colored instrument in his paw with a grin befitting of a big bad wolf.

"Hell yeah. So what's the plan then?" Shandori paused for a moment when she felt the bubbling hope within her begin to simmer. "How much is this going to cost me?" The words caused Daggerfang to close his eyes and shake his head.

"Da first one is always on me, especially for ladies as lovely as you two. What are your trades?"

"I'm a warrior. Skilled with swords and shields." Shandori whispered as the floorboards began to creak again. Daggerfang gave an satisfied smile before turning to F-bomb.

"And you miss?"

"Well I'm a little out of practice but I used to be a first class master of the elements. I'm handy with gems too." F-bomb noted, putting a little extra emphasis on her gem-cutting abilities. Daggerfang's ears twitched a little as he sat back for a moment before rocking forward again.

"I think we're in business…"


	10. Flea 10: The Chain

**Straydog Saga**

**_Flea 10: The Chain_**

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Keesha felt a slight shiver run down her arms as she pulled her jet-black cloak around her. The halls she and Trenton walked were lit only by the occasional enchanted crystal. The floor seemed to be made out of a massive tangled network of roots. The walls seemed to have a constant flow of salty seawater flowing over them like a bleeding wound. Though the atmosphere was not unlike other places Keesha had comfortably dwelled in, the smell of the sea coupled with the visible breath escaping her lips caused an ever present frown to dwell on her face. When they arrived at the base of Mydrassil, Hanariel was greeted by a red haired mage calling himself Romulus. Though the blue eyed man seemed sincere in his welcome, his focus seemed to rest on the one armed priest. Still, he did not speak any ill to Keesha and even offered to conjure her and Trenton thick robes for their trip to Archmage Nightgaze's sanctum. While Hanariel was escorted to the higher trunk, Keesha and Trenton found themselves at the tree's lowest point before the water: the Tangled Canals.

"Its so going to be worth it, you'll see." Trenton spoke with chattering teeth. He did his best to pull his black apprentice robed around him as the wetness in the hall threatened to engulf him.

"If you say so." Keesha said with as much light in her voice as there was in their path. After a few more moments of walking they came to a large chamber, which connected to several networks within the tangled mass of roots. Water elementals tended to the loose roots that seemed to shift around like slow snakes. A great water elemental commanded them. Its strange head turned to the newcomers and after a moment, gave a slight bow.

"Master Nightgaze is expecting you." It spoke, waving one of its great watery appendages to one of the many great holes. The pair walked to the small shoot, seeing nothing but darkness within.

"Well this is interesting."

"You mean it goes deeper?" Keesha asked, looking wide eyed to her young companion. Trenton shrugged.

"Only one way to find out, right?" With little hesitation and a lot of teenage bravado Trenton put his legs over the edge and pushed off. Within seconds he was rushing downwards and completely out of sight. Keesha listened for the sound of a body hitting the water but after several minutes could only hear an encouraging voice becoming her on.

"By Malygos's beard, Miss Hazzad you gotta come see this!" the young man's voice echoed in the narrow chamber. Keesha stood there for a moment, shaking hands clutching the edge.

"I can't believe I'm doing this." She sighed as her feet found nothing but air beneath them. With a swallow she kicked her legs down and pushed off the edge. Darkness engulfed her for a moment but after several seconds of falling she felt a rush of wind buffet her. Soon the twisting roots began to fray, exposing what seemed like glass encasing the tube she fell through. The ocean outside the powerful magical barrier was a swirling mass of energies, all colors and shapes floating by as the maelstrom that was only a scant few miles away churned. Strange fish went about their business as plants that grew to ten times their size rose to the surface. When she finally felt ground beneath her boots again, she could see the pale grains of sand clinging to her clothing.

"Isn't this awesome? I hear the archmage built all this himself when he and the other mage-elites came to research this place. So cool."

"Yeah ok fan boy. Have you ever ridden the deeprun tram? Looks just like it."

"Yeah but the deeprun tram doesn't have to deal with these waters now does it."

"No, but people built that without magic; it's glass and steel holding that thing together. Good honest alliance craftsmanship." Keesha crossed her arms as a great whale shark appeared from beyond the magical barrier. It waded by, not noticing the two marveling stairs, as it drifted off in pursuit of something to eat. "Ok, that was kind of cool…"

"Can I help you?" A deep voice came from a dark corner of the room. Out of a darkened root came a night elf with deep blue-violet skin and ragged looking midnight-blue hair that draped well beyond his shoulders. His glowing gold eyes scanned the pair, Trenton in particular, who seemed to be beaming. He rushed to the figure's side and gave a polite bow.

"Lord Nightgaze, it is an honor to finally meet you sir. You're much taller than in the pictures." Trenton gushed. Keesha smirked at the confused and somewhat uncomfortable look on the archmage's face. Trenton filled the small gap of silence. "I'm Trenton sir, the apprentice from Dalaran that you requested." He spoke, innocent looking eyes alight. A look of realization came to Seth's face and he gave a curt nod.

"Good. It is about time you got here. I have too much to do and I cannot burden my staff with such menial tasks. Who is that you bring with you?" He asked, giving a questioning nod to Keesha. Trenton motioned to his travel companion and began his introduction.

"This lady, Archmage, is none other than Keesha Hazzad. THE Keesha Hazzad. I may not have made it here at all if not for her quick thinking and skill in battle. I brought her with me because I though she too would benefit from making your acquaintance, if you have time that is sir." Trenton spoke, voice growing smaller in the shadow of the much taller night elf. Seth turned his attention to Keesha who's shoulders were a little straighter after Trenton's words. But she could feel the straightening in her spine grow weaker as the chisel-faced mage seemed to float towards her.

"My, lady." He offered a withered hand, long nails more like darkened claws. It took her a moment to realize what he wanted before giving her his hand. He bent down to place a small kiss on the edge of her knuckles before returning to his intimidating posture. "That is the proper human greeting for a woman, am I correct?"

"A bit formal but yes, you were right." She nodded.

"Good. I have heard only hisses and whispers about you, Miss Hazzad. It would be quite nice to spend time sorting out the details, perhaps over tea?" He offered, causing Keesha to look around before giving a slow nodd. Seth's attention snapped to Trenton who seemed to jump at the movement. "You, Terry or whatever your name was, go fetch us some tea and present it in the east drawing room. If you don't know where it is ask the staff." He commanded, sending the teen darting off into the strange magical sanctum. When Seth's gaze came back to the warlock he found a wide smirk nearly touching her ears.

* * *

"Well this sucks." Shandori gave a forceful sigh as she tossed a small pebble into her dirt prison wall. F-bomb looked to her chipped nails with a scowl as the watery stew of flower petals began gurgling in her bloated gut. Small patches of wet fur began pooling on the back of Daggerfang's neck. Try as he might, the lock to his prison cell remained intact. Unlike the iron and steel locks he could open with ease, the Druidic magic that bound the wooden barrier would simply regrow every time he attempted to bypass its holds.

"Quit yer gabbin. I'm tryin t'concentrate." He growled as his great paws fumbled with the tiny tools. He stopped for a moment with a grunt, placing the sweaty tools back in their hidden place. "Damn, I need a break."

"Daggerfang 'the uncaged' he says. 'No cell can hold me' he says. What a load a kodo crap." F-bomb said with a burp. Her words earned her a menacing growl but little else. As dawn rose, the floorboards above began to grow silent. Sentinels were changing shifts. Unlike their adventurous fellows who changed their habits to fit the day-walking cultures of the alliance, the common night elves followed in their ancestor's footsteps. As the morning wore on the sun began to settle at its highest point. That was when a great boom shook the floorboards, nearly cracking a few. The jailed residents froze for a moment, hearts racing and ears straining to take in the relative silence. Then another, louder explosion came, and with it the sound of rushing boots. Bits of dirt and sand fell from the jail walls.

"Your friends gobby?" Daggerfang asked. F-bomb shook her head.

"Goblin bombs don't sound like that. Much louder, less of a "woosh" sound before hand. Nah that sounds like…spells! Fire spells by the feel of it, geeze." She shuttered. Closest to the tiny window, F-bomb could feel the humming touch of heat slowly growing in magnitude. Darnassian screams and angry shouts came from the citizens as they tried desperately to extinguish the flames. Shandori's ears perked up as a small but growing smile came to her face.

"Well shit!" She shouted with a laugh. "Didn't know she had it in her."

"In who? What are ya talkin about?" F-bomb squeaked as a line of red- flame whirled passed the tiny window.

"They're screaming 'Get the troll! It's the Troll!' unless there are other fire spewing trolls around I think it might be an associate of mine."

"You're trollin?" Daggerfang sneered, smacking his lips as if he tasted something foul.

"Yeah, get over it ok? If that is Ima I might actually be getting out of here."

"Could be, but we ARE really close to the Warsong racket. Lots of horde there, plenty of trolls I'd imagine…but maybe we'll get lucky." F-bomb shrugged with a hopeful squeak. Shandori's eyes narrowed as a familiar shadow floated down the staircase.

"What do you mean 'we'?" Shandori snorted. There was a momentary pause before the next spell struck very close by, causing the floor to rumble.

"Oh no you di-in't…" F-bomb shouted over the roar. Daggerfang snorted as a strange scent came to his nose. A strange mingling of smoke and another piercing scent came in and out of his senses. He sniffed around but was unable to pinpoint the smell, as too much smoke began filling the area.

"What? I'm not unreasonable. If that fire starter IS in fact Ima and she IS here for me then I'd be more than willing to bust you both out too…for a small fee." She suggested. She could feel the intense glare piercing the prison wall from her next door neighbor. Daggerfang chuckled.

"Well played. I think gobby over there is about to bust a teat" He snorted, coughing a little as the strange scent assaulted him once more.

"So, you two in or what?" Shandori asked, all the while looking to the shadow that hovered in the narrow hallway. Another spell came, and with it the sound of armored sentinels running in the direction of the blast's origin. Shandori looked to the window, straining to hear what a pair of guards were shouting. A twinge of cold filled her chest, but her face still remained smirking. "We don't have much time, make up your mind." She spoke with the gentleness of a rough stone. She heard a strained sigh come from the cell next to her accompanied with a muttered "yeah, whateva." She looked to Daggerfang, who nodded. The worgen's eyes went wide as the strange smell assaulted him. He looked down to the lock that thwarted his nimble paws. The wood began to peal, as the vines within began to grow gray and wither. It was then that a leather gloved hand appeared from behind, roughly gripping the dream –bound magical lock. When the lock itself crumpled to the ground, the same hand pulled the door open. Green eyes blazing, the blood elf rogue looked to the worgen for a moment before moving on to F-bomb's cage.

"Blimey…" Daggerfang muttered as he stood, stretching out for a moment before examining the decimated lock. "Another esteemed friend, Dori?" he sneered.

"He's not an enemy." Shandori spoke, hands tightly gripping her cell door's bars. The sound of another withered lock hitting the floor made her shoulders tense. Christoffel paused for a moment before pulling two small weapons from his belt.

"Take these. I got them from the confiscated items room. Up the stairs, second door on the left. You'll probably find your things in there." Christoffel spoke with a nod before turning to Shandori's cell. He smirked as he saw her visibly straighten, eyes wide and shaking a little with nervous anticipation. As Daggerfang and F-bomb dashed towards the stairs Chgristoffel made no movement towards the small cage of a cell. Shandori's hands gripped the bars until her knuckles were a pale white.

"What the hell are you waiting for, get me outta here!" She growled with grinding teeth. She could feel her blood freeze as a sinister smirk came to his face. She felt herself sink as his arms crossed and head slowly shook.

"You know it took a considerable amount of time to plan all this, time that could have been spent doing paying work. If I break you out of there, what's in it for me?"

"You BASTARD! Stop screwing around they'll be down here any minute!" She roared, reaching out as far as she could in a futile attempt to strangle her would be extortionist. Christoffel resisted the urge to take a step back as his keen ears picked up the sound of struggle coming from up stairs.

"It sounds like MY payment is running into a little trouble upstairs. So do we have a deal?"

* * *

F-Bomb had barely finished putting on the last of her stylishly jeweled rings that she was able to find when the night elves burst in to the supply room. Fully dressed in what armor wasn't harvested for enchanting materials or gems, she turned to see three angry guards charge in her direction. The shaman closed her eyes for a moment in concentration, and focused on one of the four charms at her hip. One of the four, imbued with the binding powers of the earth came down in front of her attackers. They felt their steps slowed, but not stopped completely. The delay gave F-bomb enough time to call upon the glittering richness of the sky as a bolt of quick lightning burst from her fingers. The night elves could feel their bodies burn but it was nothing compared with the conflagration one guard endured as her body became engulfed in flame. When the burning spell was at its peak, F-bomb could feel a deeper power unlock within her, summoning a great bolt of molten lava to the afflicted elf, sending the guard to the ground. The other night elf hesitated, as she turned to scold the last remaining guard who did not seem to advance with her. The night elf's eyes went wide at the sight of her fellow guard, who was semi slumped over were she stood. It was then she felt a sharp pain in her kidney. A succession of horrific blows followed, sending her in a bloody mess to join her fallen comrade. F-bomb saw the black form of a masked worgen appear from behind the fallen guard and smiled.

"What took you so long?"

"Had to get dressed. Didn't want any a those guards remember'n my pretty face." He snorted as the pair turned to the still semi-conscious guard.

"Whadda we do with her?" F-bomb asked as a creepy smile formed her on face. One re-applied blow to the back of the head and looting session later, the guard would awake some time later to find herself tied up, semi clothed, and barely able to think past the throbbing pain in the back of her head. As the pair quickly made their way towards the door, it became apparent that F-bomb's little legs would not carry her as fast as Daggerfang's long strides would propel him. Though the smoke did not affect the smaller goblin she found herself huffing and puffing to keep up in the singed atmosphere. F-bomb nearly crashed into a wall of fur as Daggerfang came to an abrupt stop in front of her.

"I got an idea, let's mount up." He coughed. F-bomb turned a little red.

"Well usually I get a dinner out of it first…"

"Not that kinda mount." Daggerfang chuckled as he got on all fours. "Hop on!" He barked, resisting the urge to scratch the back of his ear with his foot. F-bomb did as she was told, as they pair bolted for the tree line.

"What about Dori and her elf friend?"

"What do you care? Less money outta yer pocket'n mine."

"I like the way you think." F-bomb yelped as she saw a finely made Kal'dorei arrow wiz past her ear. Another came and then another as the mounted sentinels pursued them.

"Hang on!"

* * *

Ima nearly tripped over a small root in the tangled path. Sweat ran down her cheeks as she felt it pool beneath her arm pits. The audacity of her actions seemed to make her heart pound and breath burn as the sound of roaring cat at her back caused her clumsy feet to move with nimble grace. She began casting a spell, not noticing the stray branch coming to draw a crimson line across her cheek. Suddenly, three identical Imajin's burst into being. She nodded to them and they nodded back, each running in a different direction. With their steps they each took a guard or two with them, causing the terrible roar at the mage's back to dim. But Imajin's steps did not slow in her journey to the designated meet up point. Maiev's hovel would be her shelter until the others could follow through with their part of the plan, if she could make it there before the tenacious sentinels that were still hot on her heels. When it seemed her doppelgangers' distraction drew her pursuers away, Imajin finally succumbed to her labored breathing and burning heart. She stopped to lean on a tall oak tree and wipe the sweat that pooled on her exposed skin. With a harsh whisper, she pulled the small blue globe from one of her reagent pouches and struggled to concentrate. Through her strained efforts, small watery wisps burst from the orb until a cool, teeming water elemental appeared at her side.

"Am I glad to see you, Walter. Can I have a drink?" She panted, outstretching her cupped hands with a small bow. Walter extended its own watery appendage, pouring cool, pristine water into her shaking hands. She quickly gulped it down, her loyal companion never allowing her cupped hands to run empty. She poured the water over her head and neck, allowing its cool touch to expel the heat that threatened to overtake her. Her ear twitched a little as she felt a prickling sensation on the back of her neck. Ima quickly turned to see a masked face staring blankly at her. The night elf rogue had snuck up on her, completely undetected, until he stepped from the shadows, ready to strike. But there was no malice in his eyes, or anything else. He stumbled forward, making Ima take a hasty step back. As he hit the ground, a faint shadow appeared behind him. The apparition seemed like a ghost, with pallid skin, long faded locks of white hair and glowing red eyes that could haunt even the most unholy creatures.

"You walk in dangerous woods, bold sister." The silver-voiced phantom took a step forward, placing a steel-heeled boot on the spine of the fallen night elf. "Even for someone with your abilities." She spoke with a sneer as the sickening crunch beneath her boot made Imajin's stomach lurch. The dark ranger took a step forward, walking on the body of the rogue as if it were a bony floor mat.

"T-thanks?" Ima squeaked. She found the hair on the back of her neck still stood straight as a shrill shiver crept up her spine.

"Are you lost? I can help you find your way…"

"N-No thank you. I'm meeting some friends. But th-thank you for offering, m'lady."

"The Warsong camps are about a thirty minute walk from here, due east. You'd do best to get there before nightfall. These forests still crawl with vermin." The dark ranger softly cooed. She turned, long pointed ears listening for any hint of other lurkers in the area.

"I will mam. I should be going my friends will be waiting for me." Ima gulped. The ranger took one last, blood-eyes look at the troll before nodding and disappearing back into the day-shadows. Ima shivered with an audibly "brrrr!" before calling Walter to follow her back in the direction of the meeting point where Meryld awaited and, with a little luck, the very person she and the others hoped to rescue.

* * *

"You asshole! Can't believe you. Stupid demon sucking…" Shandori growled, occasionally kicking stones as they ran. Christoffel said nothing as he led the partially armored Shandori to the meeting point. During Christoffel's seemingly brilliant move to usurp Shandori's two new servants, the people in question escaped into the woods. They were about half way to Maiev's hovel when the sounds of struggle became apparent. The desperate squeals of a little goblin and the pained howls of her companion echoed in the giant trees. The pair instinctively ran forward, the sight of glinting glaives and blades shining in the afternoon light as they approached. The ground beneath their feet grew wet with ruddy liquid as crimson mud splashed on their boots. The sight of a ferocious tiger, clawing and biting at what looked like a matted pelt assaulted them along with the smell of fresh worgen blood. A tiny figure did her best to summon the healing power of water to her companion's aid but the terrifying animal continued to mercilessly maul its prey. While out in the open, one of the mounted warriors struck, their nightsaber leaping onto the exposed rogue and knocking his companion to the ground. F-bomb could barely keep Daggerfang alive as he was thrashed about and torn open by the cat's mighty jaw. The cat paused its play when it felt the weight on its back shift. It turned its head to see its rider crumpled on the ground, with a small throwing dagger lodged in her neck. As suddenly as its burden was lifted, a jolt to its back and a hard yank to its reigns sent it reeling. With a pained roar the nightsaber tried desperately to buck and toss the offending body from its back. The remaining sentinels looked on with disgust as the wanted warrior kicked the cat hard in the sides, sending it into a rage filled panic.

"Nice kitty!" Shandori spoke with a shaking voice as she was tossed about like a bull rider. Christoffel found himself equally occupied as no less than four kal'dorei blades were upon him. He deftly avoided blow after blow, but his legs began to burn and his feet grew heavy as the battle wore on. Shandori managed to crush one of the sentinels in one well aimed pounce but she could not control the beast and as a result, met the ground hard. The angry cat indignantly roared and fled into the forest. F-bomb did her best to avoid the fray as she began using her healing spells and bandages on the shredded worgen. Christoffel suffered a hard slash to the arm, adding to the crimson décor. Another vicious cut to the collarbone nearly knocked him to his side. His fel blades held but began to shake under the pressure. It was then a shadow from one of the branches above fell. She landed hard on the ground, old knees barely moving. The former warden and watcher lunged forward, circular weapon glinting as it sliced through flesh and bone, felling one of the sentinels in three pieces. The two remaining sentinels stayed their attack and felt their boots begin to quiver under a haunted gaze.

"It would be nothing to break you…get out of my sight." She hissed. The two sentinels took a few slow steps back. "GET OUT!" With the booming voice of Maiev, the two remaining sentinels fled the scene leaving the former warden to pick up the pieces.


	11. Flea 11: Mind Control

**Straydog Saga**

_**Flea 11: Mind Control**_

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Hanariel was surrounded by white light. Small giggling wisps floated past as small, leafy vines slowly wiggled on the walls of his room. He sat there, on a soft bed of pale blue, gazing out to the churning sea. A small abalone chime swayed in the tidal winds as a knock came from the door behind him. Hanariel turned and, with a little less of a tremor in his voice, spoke for the person on the other side to enter. He felt his single shoulder tense at the sight of the tall, purple skinned priestess. She wore a stole of white reindeer fur over her lavish mantle. Small beads and 9 pointed star chimes adored the edges of the rough-cut fur and similar patterns were found on her long white robes. Her aura nearly knocked him to his side. Hanariel quickly stood and bowed his head.

"Don't do that, Lord Dawblade." Orifiel smiled. "With all that you've accomplished I should be bowing to you." Orifiel gasped as a small, blond form darted past her. Before she could react, Hanariel found a small human child at his side. The nine year old could have been an elf child: soft blond hair and clear blue eyes added to the bright smile she gave him. She grinned at him and gave his lower section the tightest hug she could muster.

"Inge don't! – I do apologize Lord Dawnblade, she doesn't know any better." Orifiel rushed to Inge, attempting to slowly pry the little girl from the priest. But as soon as a violet hand reached out, the girl's face became like an over ripe tomato. Orifiel recoiled, seemingly afraid to ignite a tantrum that could rival the shattering. Hanariel smiled and placed a single steady hand on Inge's head.

"It's q-quite alright Lady Whitedeer. Please call men Hanariel. And what is your name?" He softly asked. A look of confusion came to the child's face, followed with what looked like an attempt to burp. But instead of a disgusting noise, the word "EEn-Geh!" burst from her lips. Her soft blue eyes filled with uncertainty until the praising words of her favorite "Ri-Ri" came to reassure her. She turned again and finally released Hanariel's legs. She skipped over to Orifiel and reached to be picked up by the much larger night elf. Orifiel obliged, raiding her up and onto her hip like she would any night elf toddler. Inge looked to Hanariel and with a girlish giggle she blushed before burying her face in Orifiel's sleeve.

"The children had the day off from schooling today and when we tried to place her in the nursery this one simply wouldn't have it." She sighed and hopped a little to position Inge higher on her hip.

"Where are her parents?"

"I am her parent." Orifiel replied with a small smile. Despite her light tone, Hanariel bowed his head with a tinge of redness in his face.

"I-I'm sorry. I did not mean to assume…"

"Don't worry yourself. She is a human after all."

"B-But why didn't your assistants offer to look after her?" Hanariel softly asked. Orifiel shook her head.

"They would love to help, but she only responds to a few and those few are missing in action today. You should have heard her scream when she met my draenei friend the other day. I'm a bit shocked she clung to you like she did. You're a strange little one, you are." Orifiel laughed as Inge gave a muted scream into the fabric of her robes. "But I know you did not come here all the way from Northrend for idleness. Please follow me." She asked and turned to the door. Hanariel did as he was asked; he smiled and occasionally waved at the giggly face that quickly appeared and disappeared from behind the wall of white fabric. Lady Whitedeer's assistants had already shown him the common sights of the great tree but the winding halls that took them inward were left out of his previous tours. Carved deep within the fat trunk was a narrow little tunnel. The same trembling branches that covered the walls of his humble room danced around them. Inge reached out to pick the leaf from one as Orifiel nudged it away.

"This part of the tree is somewhat unique. There are only four other tunnels like this. We don't want to risk damaging it too badly in our endeavors." Orifiel sighed. At the end of the ever narrowing hallways was a small door. Orifiel placed the squirming girl down and reached into her key pouch for the appropriate one. When the door was open, Hanariel flinched as a great golden light burst through. His eyes took a moment to adjust before growing wide. The small room seemed to have an infinite ceiling, with swirling blue clouds blanketing an indigo sky. Golden stars shown down, until the midnight walls blended into what appeared to be a low hanging sun.

"H-How?"

"Archmage Nightgaze and his sorcerers have harnessed the powers of Mydrassil, well in some places at least. This is what we call a pocket, a safe room. I know you may or may not have strong feelings about the arcane, but rest assured this is a SAFE room in all respects. I myself have found that great ideas and even a few revelations have come to me during my meditations within this very room. You may choose to study its properties, retreat when you need to, or perhaps meditate by calling for night. I took the liberty of brightening the sun for you but please make all the alterations you like." She smiled as the stammering priest's face seemed to grow brighter than the false sun.

"This, this place is amazing." He uttered as he ran his hand through the low hanging clouds. The tingling of arcane temptation surrounded him, but the draw seemed weak at best. He turned to see a smiling priest intently watching him with her pale vision. A thought came to his mind and in his joy the question slipped past loosened lips.

"How does a priestess of Elune find such a place to be so inspirational? You cannot be near the light your goddess here and there's so much arcane energy…" Hanariel asked, cutting the thought short when his mind came crashing down from the momentary jubilee. Orifiel smiled and gave a slow nod.

"I meditate here, I pray elsewhere. We do not fully understand Mydrassil's power, this is true. The priests of all faiths feel its light, druids its life force, and mages its raw arcane winds. But one thing we all agree on is that, like its parent Teldrassil, the tree lives and speaks to us. You only need whisper and it will hear your thoughts. Though I cannot guarantee it will answer." Orifiel closed her eyes. She thought of a calmer place, a place with rushing water and spring flowers. At once the sun rose until the sky was a soft blue. The floor began to shift into a meadow of wild flowers. Though she thought of the beautiful kingsblood plant, Mydrassil delivered a field of glittering sungrass. Hanariel marveled at the sight as a bright smile came to his face. Orifiel's eyes opened again to see the smiling priest and a small human girl doing cartwheels in the tall grass.

"That's odd… I did not think of sungrass."

"I-I did." Hanariel spoke as he watched Inge fall to the ground after an ill-fated cartwheel. But the young one simply shook it off and began pulling out some of the foliage, blade by blade. "I've got to tell Keesha about this, she'll never believe it."

"Who?"

"Keesha, the young lady who escorted me here." Hanariel spoke, brightness fading at the frown on Orifiel's face.

"I will not dictate who you choose to associate with, Hanariel, but you will not bring a warlock into this sanctum. We've had enough problems with the naga to be inviting such a person into our space. Is that understood?" Hanarial felt heat rise in his cheeks and quickly nodded.

"How long did say you were permitted to stay here?" Orifiel spoke, not recalling the details of the letter she received ahead of his arrival. Hanariel thought for a moment before replying.

"I believe lady Windrunner did not give me a time to return."

"Then you will have all the time you need to find what it is you seek." Orifiel smiled, placing a spare key to the safe room in his single hand.

* * *

"You over steeped it." Archmage Nightgaze curtly snorted taking a sip of very strong and bitter tea. Trenton felt a slight heat in his cheeks.

"I can make another pot sir." He offered. A cold nod and a small wave of dismissal was his reply. Keesha's eyes lingered at Trenton's back as the assist scurried away. She took a sip of the ill-brewed tea and reached for the sugar.

"You do not have to drink that swill if it offends your tastes, Lady Hazzad." Seth spoke, moving his own tea cup to the edge of the table. Keesha finished depositing her second tea spoon of sugar into the dark liquid and began to stir.

"The tea is fine. Fine for a human anyway." She shrugged taking a more relaxed and sweetened sip. Seth folded his claw like hands and gently placed them on the table in front of him. He leaned forward slightly, eyebrow raised.

"If I may be so bold, it is a distinctive privilege to be in the presence of one responsible for dispatching the lich king." His words made her stop mid sip. She slowly placed the shaking tea cup down and the air in the room suddenly grew as solid as stone.

"H-How does everyone I meet seem to know that? First Trenton, now you."

"Lord Fordring and his rabble are about as discrete as a holy hammer to the head. To think they tried to keep the glory of Arthas's demise to themselves. Disgusting. Well, at least that little minion had the good sense to bring you into my company. If you are not too bothered by it, I do have some questions." He smirked. Keesha slowly shook her head but kept her gaze on her half-drank tea. Seth paused and his smirk faltered. "My apologies my lady. This was not meant to be an interrogation…"

"N-No its fine. I just haven't really talked about it since, well ever. Trenton told me you helped slay Illidan. I can't imagine the battles being much different." Keesha suggested. A small almost warm smile came to her face as she saw the archmage cringe.

"A disgusting experience to say the least… I will make you a deal: we shall speak no further on either subject despite our idle curiosities."

"That works for me. But that doesn't mean we can't still have tea time right?" She smiled, holding her empty cup sideways. Seth nodded and turned to call for his seemingly slow assistant. Keesha spoke up, cutting off an impending roar towards the kitchenette. "He's a good kid. All he talked about the whole way here was getting to study under you. Said you might be able to improve my shadow spells." Keesha added. A sly smile crept to Seth's face, but he quickly removed the look before turning back to his table mate.

"I'm afraid I do not dabble in dark magic, my dear—"

"That's not what I heard."

"Oh?"

"He also mentioned that, in a certain period of time we won't talk about, you made demons bow to you just by looking at them. Now I've heard some pretty loaded stories but humor me." Keesha smiled. Seth's gaze grew very serious for a moment and his golden eyes seemed to grow in brightness. Keesha suddenly felt her blood run cold. It felt as if every bone in her body was shaking. She could hear her pounding heartbeat as her toes curled in her boots. As quickly as the horrible sensation came, with a blink of Seth's eyes and loosening of his features, Keesha felt the warmth flood back to her.

"I can not confirm nor deny any stories you may have been told but there is a reason I am called Nightgaze." He coolly smiled. Keesha did her best to shake off the chill but the lack of warm tea and the lingering shadow around her made it difficult.

"That's quite a stare…" Keesha sighed as the welcome sight of Trenton coming back into the room broke the tension. He quickly refreshed their cups with what smelled like a fruity blend of herbs and berries. Keesha uttered a quick 'thanks' and took a sip. "Don't suppose you can teach that…"

"I could, but if you don't mind me saying so, your eyes are far too pretty for such an ugly trick. However your presence would be a boon to my efforts here. It is difficult to find good company in this…dungeon. If I'm to take one on apprentice, I don't suppose another would be too much trouble. That is if it's what you desire."

"That would be nice. I haven't had a teacher since Mistress Roya passed. Could stand to improve on a few things…you don't mind the whole warlock thing?" She asked with an incredulous eyebrow raised high. Seth smiled and shook his head.

"I have dark tastes, you could say. But it would be best if you did not commune with your demonic assistants while within the tree. We've had a few "incidents" with warlock pets in the past. Took us weeks to clean up the stains. Not to mention you'll have to deal with the company of priests and I need not tell you how annoying that can be." He shrugged, wincing at the tea as he splashed a little on his tongue.

"They're not all bad." Keesha offered, the golden gaze snapping on her form like a cruel whip. She felt her shoulders tense. As Seth's terrible vision fell, so to did her heart-beats.

"Then you haven't spent enough time in their company. Listen well, the tangled canals are the domain of my mages. As one of my personal pupils you will not associate with those who seek to judge us, judge you for the hard work done in this pit. Or do you wish to be another forgotten hero like the rest…" Seth cringed at the words and took a deep breath. "I am sorry you did not deserve that, especially at our first meeting." He spoke in the gentlest tone strangers were allowed to see. Keesha shook her head, doing her best to keep her usual sturdy frame from collapsing.

"Its ok, I know how it goes. This is your home, I'll respect the house rules." She said with a nod. Seth regained his composure and a small smile returned to his calculating face.

"Excellent."


	12. Flea 12: The Safe Room

**Straydog Saga**

_**Flea 12: The Safe Room**_

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A field of sungrass met Hanriel's bare feet. The sun hung a little lower than he imagined and though his force of will was sound, still it hung. With a little sigh, sit sat at the base of what looked like a pale maple tree. Its red leaves shifted in the light wind that flowed through the safe room. He closed his eyes and began to regulate his breaths. His pounding heart began to slow, as his shaking shoulder sank. The smooth bark of the pale maple seemed to coax his back to it as he felt the tall sungrass blanket his legs. His mind began to slip into a blank state. There were neither imaginings nor worries, just a calm flow of his favorite colors, washing over his dampening mind. The thought of Lady Whitedeer's instructions came to mind but he quickly sent them away as the tension began returning to his back. He thought of the heavenly blue and indigo waves that always made him smile and spoke the words he was taught.

"Spirit of the mystic tree, what is it I should see?" He spoke, seemingly out of breath. A small smile began to form as moment after moment he was left with nothing but his meditation and the atmosphere of his own creation. But in his calm drifting state he did not hear the creeping branches, slithering to him like leaved vipers. It was not until they sprung, sinking their sharpened tips into his back and arm, did he even know they were there. Hanariel uttered a gasp as the thin but sharp appendages began splintering in his system, crawling their way through his veins until they clustered in and around his steady eyes. Suddenly he felt himself pulled back, though his body was still and bound by the tiny tendrils. The clam clouds of blue and green began to swirl into a maelstrom of color until images began to appear in the strange tunnel his mind was subjected to. His consciousness, manifested in what felt like his own body, as the mystified priest lifted one of two hands to block the stunning light that came through the hole in his mind. At once he found himself in a mist covered forest. The brilliant colors that should have surrounded him were tinted grey. He held both hands to his face, causing a look of wonder and confusion. Before his mind could process the growth, the sound of a whining female voice came into earshot. He watched as a night elf, dressed in the trappings of a mid-level druid, and his common-dressed teenage daughter emerged from the wood.

"I still don't see why we needed to cut our trip short for this. She didn't bother to come for my trials. Why should I drop whatever I'm doing for the brat?" The indigo- haired girl pouted, childishly kicking a pebble in her path. Her father wore a calm, almost serene expression in contrast to the fire the burned within his daughters pale eyes.

"That brat is your little sister and had she not been in her own trials at the time, you know she would have supported you." The girl's father looked to her with something that resembled sympathy. Hanariel found his feet moving in the direction of the pair, careful not to step on any tricky twigs as he moved. Though they seemed to be bathed in the same faded color as the rest of the scene, he did his best not to be seen.

"But this was supposed to be OUR trip. We planned it all out, and we didn't even get to see Ironforge. It's not my fault she's graduating early. Now we'll NEVER get to try dwarven ale." The teen crossed her arms and did her best to ignore the comforting look her father gave.

"It's not the end of the world, Wibble."

"Don't call me that, father. I'm not 5."

"Indulge me." The druid smiled as a crack in his eldest daughter's broody frown began to emerge. "You'll always be my little wibbler whether you like it or not, especially when you throw a tantrum."

"I'm NOT throwing a tantrum. I'm just sick of always being number 2!" She shouted, fists balling and shoulders tensing. Her father's smile faded a little.

"What do you mean?"

"You KNOW what I mean." She growled, heat flowing into her unmarred cheeks. "If you don't you can ask MOTHER, I'm sure she'd tell you all about it." She turned away, staring at the path before her with laser like focus. Her father sighed.

"Not everyone can be a priest or a druid, Shandori. Just because you are more suited to the warrior's path doesn't make you any worse in our eyes." He offered.

"Why does she always have to be so GOOD at everything?" She half grunted, kicking another pebble into the grass where Hanariel hid.

"Now Dori, stop being so dramatic. And why would you be upset about being a warrior? Look at lady Feathermoon, how wise and noble she is." Zadiel offered but the cool words did little to stifle the stoked rage. Hanariel could see the great restraint in Zadiel's actions. He could have mocked his eldest child about her slow progress in the sentinel's ranks. He could have truthfully told her that her scenarios were not totally unfounded. He, like his mate, could have berated the girl who seemed to do everything the hard way while exalting his exceptional younger daughter. And had he been a man with less wrinkles and graying green hair, those harsh words may have freely flown from his lips. But Hanariel had seen such looks before, heard such carefully kind words in his own ears. And though many might have judged the pouty, roaring teen as just another spoiled daddy's girl, Hanariel felt a pang in his chest.

"But she's not a druid, I'M not a druid." She sighed. "Warrior, bar wench, garbage tender, it's all the same to Mother. And when you and Luny get sent away I'll be stuck with her." Shandori's inner fire seemed to recede slightly. The steam in her words eased the pressure in her chest but caused the liquid in her stomach to churn. "It's just not fair…" She grumbled, eyes holding back bitter tears. Zadiel struggled to find the words, but was forced to settle for silence. As the pair continued their journey in tense quiet, Hanariel felt a tug at his back. His surroundings began to blur and the sounds that were so crisp just a moment before began to muffle like low hanging clouds. The trees transformed into walls made of white stone. The dirt and pebbles swelled into mortar and cobblestone. The sound of tweeting birds blended into the night watchman's call. Though the streets seemed drenched in gray hues, Hanariel knew the streets of the dwarven district well. He noted that the signs still led to the park, long blown into oblivion during the terrible cataclysm. Two guards came into view, walking towards him with lanterns in hand.

"G-Good evening…" He offered, but no surprise filled him as the guards appeared to overlook his presence. When they were upon him they did not hesitate as both their bodies seemed to melt through his own. Hanariel brushed himself off and felt the careful tension that ran through him abate. Rowdy voices coming from a nearby pub drew him in. Through the dusty window he saw many tiny forms drinking and some even singing in drunken merriment. A few larger forms dwelled within. Two figures, a human soldier and what looked like a night elf warrior sat at a table, steins tipped high and the small crowd around them cheering them on. It took Hanariel a moment to recognize the long, indigo haired night elf was the teen he watched only moments before. As she placed her stein down he noticed her matured features, but her eyes still seemed as bright as the ones she wore as a youngster. Her cheeks were deep purple, while her drinking partner's face was three shades of bright red.

"I think yer done, Jenkins!" She slurred, nearly missing the table as she attempted to place the stein back down. The dwarves called to the bar for another round, seeing how far the weak-stomached human and elf could be persuaded to go. Hanariel entered, nearly tripping over a gnome as he made his way closer to where Shandori sat. He arrived and took his seat at a nearby table as the pair's next drinks arrived.

"5 gold on t'night elf. She's gotcha beat, lad!" One of the dwarves chuckled. He looked around and found a human taker. The soldier seemed confident that Private Jenkins could out do the foreigner, despite the watery look in his gaze. After the next pint was drained, Private Jenkins had an intimate meeting with the floorboards and the pocket of many a patron shifted coinage. Hanariel watched a genuine smile come to Shandori's face. Her dwarven friends pat her on the back and thanked her for their fatter wallets as she assured them that she would never dare do liquid battle with any of them despite their pleas. A barmaid arrived shortly after with a large pitcher of water as Private Jenkins's fellow soldiers came to take him to bed, or disrobe him before throwing him in the canals in retribution for their losses, Hanariel did not turn to confirm either way. Hanariel looked around with a small smile. Despite the grey wash in the scene he could almost feel the warm energy within. He could see the look of genuine happiness on Shandori's face as he watched her continue to laugh and converse with her fellow patrons. A shifting in the room and the clink of coins on the table banished the happy pub, clouds and images swirling around Hanariel like vapor. He barely had enough time to stand before the chair beneath him vanished. The salty smell of grey water and brine replaced the pungent smell of past fermented brews. The Stormwind harbor was a buzz with nocturnal entities as passengers made their way through the moonlit scene. A familiar voice came from behind; once again the warrior with indigo hair met his eyes. She was in the company of her dwarven friends and a few off duty soldiers. Their bawdy jokes and loud conversation caused several raised Elvin eyebrows and upturned noses to form in the actions of the night elf dock dwellers.

"I'ma miss you jerk faces." she slurred, the slight smell of whiskey on her breath. "Get back in once piece alright?" she commanded with drunken zeal. Her concern, drowned in alcohol and nervous smiles, merely made the young recruits laugh. Hanariel gasped at the faces he saw. Had a few more wrinkles and thicker beards, he could have sworn that they had been the very faces of valiant Argent dawn soldiers he'd known; companions that tasted the bloodied snows of Northrend, never to smell another spring in the lower continents.

"Man Dori, you gotta come with us, man. They'll let you in they don't check credentials or nothin'." One of the men, one Hanariel himself had broken bread with before battle, offered. Shandori shook her head.

"I gotta go back to Darnassus. The old woman won't leave me alone about it. Hopefully I can pass the damn trial this time. Then I'll be kicking scourge ass, don't you worry."

"Not if we take them all out ourselves. We won't leave any fun for lazy asses." Another soldier, Private Jenkins, jibed. Shandori shoved him, nearly knocking him into the bay.

"Shut up Jenkins or I'll putcha in the drink!" She laughed as Jenkins struggled to steady himself. It was then a chill voice traveled on the night wind. A sharp "Shandori Sagesmoke!" pierced the warm mood, causing the young men to straighten to attention. From the disembarking crowd was a night elf woman, a priestess in action and dress. She gracefully strode towards the motley crew, long white vestments billowing behind like a white cloud. Her long indigo hair, with light blue and silver streaks was bound by a comb without a single piece of long hair to spare for her naked neck. Hanariel couldn't help but straighten a little himself. Though she wore an aged version of her daughter's face, the pair seemed as different as night and day. There was silence between the pair, eyes moving to conduct all the necessary communication. The nervous humans looked to their friend for guidance.

"What are you doing here, mother?"

"I should be asking you. Orientation began a week ago and yet here I find you…among the alliance elite I see." She looked to the rabble with the same painfully forced politeness that donned most Elvin faces when outside of their isolated sanctuary.

"But I've already taken those courses, 5 times now. Training doesn't begin until next week."

"So instead of refreshing you memory you choose to remain here, making an utter ass of yourself?" She hissed, careful to pluck her tone from the wind. Shandori's smirked, looking to her friend and motioning for them to leave.

"At ease guys, I'll catch up." At once they scattered, but not before one of them mentioned where they would be hiding while her mother was present. Hanariel noted the grey blanket in the scene getting thicker as he struggled to keep everything in focus. Though the cool night surrounded him, he could fee sweat forming on his brow.

"You came all this way to tell me that eh? You must be bored." She sneered as a quick hand pulled her away to a more secluded space with Hanariel unknowingly in tow. Shandori pulled her arm back, rubbing the spot where her mother roughly gripped. "What the hell is wrong with you?" Shandori grunted, still rubbing the sore spot.

"You listen to me and you listen well. I have pulled me last strings to get you back into the sentinel program. Instead you run around with those…dwarves and humans acting like a lunatic. I hear the whispers Shandori and my relations are becoming strained because of your behavior. Are you doing this to spite me?" Iona hissed with her piercing vision set on her daughter. Hanariel wiped the wetness from his face as he desperately tried to focus.

"No. I just…"

"Just what?"

"I…don't know. Can we talk about this later?"

"Certainly, we'll talk on the boat I had to charter to get out here." Shandori's eyes went wide as her mother pulled her back towards the dock. Her feet locked, causing them to halt just before they were in view of judgmental eyes. "What are you DOING?"

"Can't go. The boys are shipping out soon."

"So?"

"So this was supposed to be our big night, you know?" Shandori tilted her head as a sickened look came to her mother's desperate face.

"Your father and sister are leaving for Northrend too. I would be there myself if I could go but I have you to look after, at your age! Many brave young ones, far younger than you are stepping up to serve. Do you enjoy being left behind? This is your last chance to make something of yourself and protect your world. Why are you wasting it?" Iona did her best to keep her tone at its dignified as her darkening cheeks would allow. But there was no more words spoken between the two elves as the scene began to drown in the grey clouds. Hanariel nearly passed out as he felt a tug at his back. He could feel the tiny branches that weaved through his system begin to pull back out but the sensation was warm and soothing. There were not wounds, blood or bruises in their wake as the low hanging sun and fields of golden sungrass welcomed him.

* * *

The rain the fell on the bloodied leaves of Felwood was rank with corruption. Despite all the good work Druids and adventurers had done over the years its rolling hills were still covered with slime. The bark on the crooked trees pealed and fell to the ground in dry flakes. The animals, rabid and wild eyes, stalked the dark places in the cursed wood, where a small group of wary adventurers were left with little choice to tread. Daggerfang was still barely able to walk after the vicious mauling and relied on the sturdy backs of Ima and Meryld to help easy his passage through the gnarled ground. Shandori and F-Bomb conversed about their mutual next steps. Unless they reached the neutral sanctuary of Winterspring soon, both their guts roared that they would surely be caught by the army amassing in the south. Christoffel and a reluctant Maiev stalked just a bit behind of the pack, ensuring they were not followed.

"Man this place stinks." F-bomb whispered long green years held high to pick up even the slightest sounds of trouble. But she could hear little over the patting of rain on crackling leaves.

"How far to the Timbermaw caverns?" Shandori shivered, pulling the cloak she acquired in their mini-raid of the sentinel jail over her shoulders. The deep violet fabric suited her, but the glaive pattern on her back left much to be desired.

"About half a day's walk from here. I'll have to do some talking to get all of you through but me and those furbolgs go way back. I'm sure it won't be any trouble, especially with "big-bad" over there needing a healer and all. Once we get there you all can use my ski home as a hide out. I think that'll do for my payment?" she raised a brow to Shandori who smiled and nodded.

"More than enough. We'll just need a safe spot to lay low for a bit until we can scatter. Are you sure we wont' run into trouble up there?"

"No way, its way too damn cold for most bounty hunters and those that do head up there are hunting things of the four legged variety. And if any of those girlies start in on ya, the bruisers will wail on them good 'n throw um in the box." F-Bomb affirmed.

"Miss Dori, can we take a break? He's getting heavy…" Ima said with labored breath. Shandori turned to see two sweat-covered maidens with a lolling-tongued worgen between them.

"Just a bit further, alright? We're still pretty close to the druid camps. We can take a break while F-bomb talks to with the Timbermaw." She offered but the looks on the troll and older worgen's faces spoke when their mouths could only move to breathe. Shandori sighed and the group stopped to rest near a fallen elm tree. Christoffel and Maiev appeared sometime later after circling the perimeter for hidden enemies.

"We were not followed by the sentinels." Maiev shivered from a cold that no one else seemed to share. She did her best to contain it and if anyone saw the action, no one commented on it. "We should not be bothered by them." As others took their seats to rest, Maiev stood at the ready, cautiously looking at the corrupted landscape.

"Do you want anything to eat Ms. Maiev?" Ima asked, rummaging through her supply bag. Maiev shook her head and said nothing.

"Maiev, that name sounds familiar…" Shandori pondered for a moment before shrugging. In their hurry she had not been formally introduced to the newcomer, but judging by her pale hair and fine wrinkles, she assumed she was a friend of Meryld's.

"It is a common name." Maiev spoke before anyone could confirm her old identity. Though the person she used to be no longer breathed, she found no want or will to change the name she was given at birth.

"Well thanks for your help." Shandori said, cutting her speech short when Maiev's gaze rested upon her tensing shoulders.

"I'd say Ms. Shandori owes Ms. Maiev quite a lot for hiding us and showing us the hidden paths out of Ashanvale, don't you think?" Ima innocently asked Meryld who smirked at Shandori's darkening cheeks.

"At least a half a year's worth of debt by my measure." Christoffel chimed in. The little smug smile was shared by those who were capable. Maiev stood as stony as she always did, eyes ever watching.

"Well if Ms. Maiev doesn't require any payment then that's her right." Shandori said through gritted teeth. Maiev's gaze quickly snapped to a thicket of sparse shrubs and remained there as shadows of the past began to shift in her mind. She barely managed to beat them back before looks of concern were cast her way. A clawed hand began stroking her trembling mind before her thoughts began to shift in its terrible grip.

"I will absolve your debt to me if you answer one question."

"Hell, ask!" Shandori's momentary excitement diminished as that hard, haunted gaze slowly came to rest on her once more. Words that seemed laced with darkness spewed forth from her unhinged lips.

"I have had ample time to observe you. You are bawdy like a dwarf, money hungry like a goblin, and fast talking like a human. What's more you surround yourself with the worst sort of rabble imaginable: arcane addicted traitors, trolls, feral monsters, and double dealing thieves. I know the line of Sagesmoke to be an old and noble Kal'Dorei family. How did such a brave and wise man as Zadiel Sagesmoke bare such a morally incapable and traitorous offspring? I'm sure he turns in his grave at the vision of you." Shandori couldn't move. The words cut her worse than the sharpest blade. Most insults just bounced off the thick skin she'd built but Maiev deftly aimed for the sensitive areas, where no armor could cover. The color drained from her face as the entire party sat there stunned at her reaction. She tried to speak but only a quiet stammer escaped her lips.

"Perhaps you should get your eyes checked, my lady. Your observations aren't quite accurate." A voice came from Shandori's side. Christoffel spoke with a scowl. "And if you find us all so disgusting, why did you even help us in the first place. The sentinels out numbered us and would have killed us all. And yet you stepped in, why?" Christoffel's harsh expression softened a little as the haunted eyes slowly turned soft. Maiev closed her eyes, and leaned her head back, as if something had gently taken hold. When she opened her eyes again, the specter that haunted her steps shifted its clawed hands with a wicked smile. At is spoke, so did she.

"You do disgust me, but then again, so do I." She whispered, the clawed hands at her throat ever threatening to clamp down on her windpipe. A voice spoke from beyond imagination, hissing insults into her ears. But a shifting and a hard slap to the face banished the demon and brought Maiev back to reality. She looked up with questioning indignation on her face as Shandori angrily spoke.

"You can say what you want about me. I don't care about the opinions of a washed up old nobody. But you say one more thing about my father I'll give you a one way ticket to the bottom of a lake, IS THAT CLEAR?" Shandori's last words seemed to shake the branches around her, sending several black birds fleeing to the clouds. Maiev closed her eyes and sighed.

"I am sorry…sometimes ill things speak through me." She shivered looking around the area for any signs of the demon. Ima came to her sighed and offered her a hand up. Maiev took the troll's hand without hesitation.

"We all have inner demons I guess." Ima offered.

"Some more literal than others…" Maiev muttered too lowly for anyone else to hear.

"We should getta goin'. Sun's startin' ta get low." Daggerfang rumbled, jaw aching from his ordeal. The group lingered a little longer to finish eating or the doing of other business before continuing their journey north. Neither Maiev nor Shandori brought up the incident again, both content with mutual silence.


	13. Flea 13: Secrets in the TwigLight

**Straydog Saga**

_**Flea 13: Secrets in the Twig-Light**_

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* * *

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There was an eerie hush over The Twilight Highlands. Though the creatures that once plagued its tainted lands were all but a bad memory, life still had not fully sprung from the ruined earth. The occasional shadow came and went over the broken landscape as crimson sentinels still patrolled the skies. But even the keenest of vision could barely spot the tiny speck, creeping in the shadows. From each hidden nook it fled, seemingly desperate to stay out of the blood-scaled leviathan's sight. Its secretive run did not end until it reached a small, abandoned hovel. The stone walls were shattered, the roof was completely stripped away, and the floorboards, which were seemingly untouched in the mayhem that destroyed the home, were not as solid as they appeared. The cloaked figure knocked twice, then once more on the dusty floor. The floorboards pealed open to reveal a hidden staircase leading to what was once a simple beer cellar.

"What kept you, Bodyl?" A deep voice quietly asked, ushering the dwarf deeper into the dark cellar. The hulking draenei kept his old twilight garments hidden beneath a common cloak. His bald-horned head seemed drained of all light and the Naru rune that would have once adorned his deep blue forehead was absent. Another figure, a young looking draenei woman sat at a small table, idly waving her bear sky-colored palm over a small candle's flame. Her bright eyes sparkled but bore no warmth within. Her long pale hair was bound in playful pigtails but her plump lips could not find the will to smile.

"The filth circles above us. It took all my cunning not to be spotted." Bodyl grunted, heaving a heavy bag onto the musky table. The woman leaned forward without reservation and pulled the tie at the bag's opening, sending its contents rolling and tumbling onto the table. Bodyl moved to scold the youngster, but one look from her glowing eyes caused him to stop the motion.

"We came all this way for trinkets? How boring." She sighed as she watched the two men take their places at the table. Bodyl sneered at the alleged trinkets and with a wave of his hand, the little gems and stones began to pulsate with green energy.

"These are no mere trinkets, my dear."

"Are these what I think they are?" The draenei cultist, known to his fellows as Balumbra, marveled. As he picked up one of the tiny stones up and rolled it in his hand, the energy cooled his skin and seemed to sap his strength to the point where his rough cot seemed to call his name. Balumbra quickly placed the tiny stone down, causing a sinister smile to come to the older dwarf's black-bearded face.

"They are the results of my experiments. Very interesting results to say the least." Bodyl cackled as he began to place the glowing trinkets back into their place within his knapsack. "We will need to make a move soon if the activities at Mydrassil were as our spies claim. We cannot let them succeed in their goal or it will mean the end of us…the end of the master's goal." Bodyl darkly pondered. Balumbra crossed his arms with a snort.

"Those fools will be no challenge. Why do we not strike now?" Balumbra suggested, his large tail excitedly swishing, causing Bodyl to shake his head.

"No, we can't just rush in and smash things up. There needs to be a plan…especially with Nightgaze involved. He may be a fool aiding those tree-hugging idiots, but he is a powerful fool. Not to mention the tree's mistress. Besides I DO have a plan and with a bit of luck we'll take whatever it is they are so guardedly keeping." Bodyl cackled, slapping his palm on the dusty table. Balumbra and Pashima's lips didn't so much as twitch.

"What exactly are they keeping that is of any interest to us?" Pashima asked with a drawl, swirling the tip of one of her pigtails with her index finger. Bodyl leaned closer, as if the very walls themselves were listening. He quickly looked between the two for a moment before whispering his reply.

"A massive gem. None of our people have gotten anywhere near it, but they have keen ears. The information they've managed to get suggests that it is a gem of great power, an alchemical wonder! They keep it in the pinnacle bow, the very top of the tree where the arcane energy is most potent. It would only make sense that whatever they're conjuring, it would be at the very place where the well of eternity once was." He hissed. Though Balumbra's stony expression persevered, his madly twitching tail betrayed him.

"So you call us here with whispers? Surely you have something else." Balumbra growled, crossing his arms and mind frantically trying to calm his twitching tail.

"Indeed I do, lad. Those stones I brought were made from samples collected from the tree fused with the bones of a green dragon. All you need to do is hold one for a moment and it saps your strength. Hold it longer and well, I've lost more than a few assistants that way. I nearly passed out putting them into the bag, and I'm wearing thick gloves. If there is a gem like the one our spies describe, it would contain power far beyond our imagination. Surely it would be of great interest to the master." Bodyl assured. Thoughts of his dark lord made a small shiver quake though him but he managed to maintain his composure.

"Well I hope for your sake that there IS something stuck up in that tree, Bodyl. The master will not tolerate any more foolishness from you. How do you propose we obtain this super gem? You do realize if any of us gets near that tree, that bitch and her pet will know." Pashima snarled with a sour expression. Her icy words did not cool the excitement from Bodyl's being. With a dark smile, Bodyl replied: "For the right price, the right thieves can be bought."

* * *

Keesha dodged her assailant, nearly receiving a horrible slash to the cheek. The dark creature met its fate at her shadow-imbued hands as a bolt of pure darkness knocked it back, breaking it in two. But another creature took its place with an infinite number at the ready. Though the terrible creatures appeared only moments before, sweat was already raining down her neck. A cool voice ever commented on her skillful but seemingly futile attempts to quell the vicious crowd.

"You've dispatched the one, yet it has not stopped them. Try again." Lord Nightgaze calmly spoke with a smile resembling sadistic joy as the strange creatures made another attempt on the warlock's life. The very same thorny appendages that sent Trenton to the infirmary only an hour before Keesha's own lesson began were relentless beasts that bore into the deep, sandy earth. This time, the sopping-wood appendage lunged for her stomach, forcing Keesha to leap to her side, knocking her off balance. The creature turned, and took out her legs, sending her to the floor. But even as she watched Mydrassil's scathing root about to turn for its final blow, her will did not falter. As it bore down she rolled out of the way, casting an immolate spell on its wooden flesh. It screeched and writhed for a moment before digging into the cool, sandy floor leaving a sweat-drenched and panting Keesha in its wake. It was then her teacher intervened, commanding the roots of Mydrassil to halt their fury and recede into the earth. Before she could process what had occurred, a dark, clawed hand reached to help her to her feet.

"You survived but have much to learn." He nodded, effortlessly pulling her to her feet.

"They wouldn't have stopped coming…"

"No they would continue until every ounce of strength you had was spent."

"So what was the point?" Keesha panted while pulling off a dark glove to rub off the sweat on the back of her neck. She had entered the strange space with her new teacher only 10 minutes before to begin her lessons. But just as her teacher spoke, the roots that formed the room seemed to come alive and at his nodding, began their assault.

"There is a lesson in the struggle but it is not mine to teach." Seth gave a small smile before continuing. "I will give you a small puzzle that these little sessions will help solve. Solve the puzzle and you will learn all you will learn from me." Seth spoke as he conjured a glass of water. He handed it to his pupil who took it with a grateful nod. The cool liquid opened her throat and out poured a few words of thanks.

"Alright let's hear it."

"What tears apart a bright new start and pulls us to the lifeless dark? That haunts our steps with stark regrets, never missing the mark? And from it flee, never do we, escape its senseless spark. But in the face of dim disgrace, one must find the start." Seth spoke with a sense of linguistic pride in his smirking face.

"The last bit didn't rhyme."

"Pay attention to the meaning and not the words and you will succeed if not in you goal but in continuing to stay on my good side."

"OK…" Keesha spoke, avoiding the golden orbs that were surely glaring at her. But after her strange ordeal a few more practical lessons followed. Seth instructed her in the ways of arcane channeling and, at her urging, techniques in the ways of magical control and will- bending. After another exhausting hour Keesha was off for the rest of the day. Mentally drained and covered in sweat, she didn't notice the looks or the subtle whispers as she made her way to her lavish room. The window was not to a gray sky but to a miasmic sea full of all manner of colorful wildlife. She changed from her usual dark and revealing garb into a deep violet shirt and black pant set, a uniform set aside for use of Lord Nightgaze's students. The shirt was a little too large and the pants were a little too snug. She sighed and exited into a small hallway which, according to a small map that was provided to Keesha upon her agreement to study, was supposed to lead to portals to the upper trunk of the tree. Sure enough in moments she had traveled the great distance to the upper trunk where gaggles of people went about their business. Priests conversed about their findings and need for larger chapels in the strange tree. Druids, sensitive to the pain and irritation the carved out living spaces caused the great tree, cast soothing spells on the internal walls. The wiggling branches within slowed and relaxed in the cool green energy. Though their great Shando, Malfurion Stormrage, often frowned at the sight of the arcane-drenched tree in the middle of a place that often haunted his memories, he always sent a great number of his brightest students to aid the Whitebranch Initiative in Mydrassil's continued maintenance. Common folk hired to perform the daily drudgeries that kept the noble ones going relished their momentary reprieves. She walked along, spying the small shops and eateries with mild interest.

As she passed one of the many flight decks, a group of shaman entered the main hall. The not so subtle stench of orc and troll flesh assaulted her as the small smile she wore was quickly replaced with a sour sneer. While the company of blood elf mages during a few of her lessons made her stomach turn, nothing caused a greater measure of revulsion in Keesha than the presence of orcs. She noticed one of the orc shamans, a tall male with braided grey hair, seemed to shine with nature's blessing despite his best efforts to bury himself in the crowd. She could see chipped, yellow tusks from beneath his pale-hide cloak but his pale blue eyes remained safely tucked away. Every inch of the light-bathed shaman made her skin prick and crawl. Lost in her own hateful thoughts, Keesha did not notice the presence behind her.

"They're from The Earthen Ring." A soft voice yawned. Keesha calmly turned to see Hanariel Dawnblade standing there with a small smile on his face and a few things that had not been there when the pair first arrived. He seemed to stand a little straighter since his lessons began. The cloak that was always pulled tightly around his thin frame had not made and appearance since their arrival, replaced by fine robes made from fabrics purchased after his arrival."I haven't seen you in a while, Keesha. Are you well?"

"Hey, look who's sporting the fuzz!" She joked, banishing her disgust to welcome a joyful chuckle. Hanariel returned the gesture while rubbing his own chin which in recent days had began sprouting small but thick blond hair.

"I know. I've never been able to grow a proper beard. Must be the energy here."

"Yeah I know this place is really weird. But what are those…things doing here?" Keesha turned to cast a brief glare over her shoulder before returning a smile to the priest.

"I overheard Lady Whitedeer speaking to one of her associates about it but other than their arriving, I know little else." He said, eyeing her oddly clothed form. "A-Are those new?" He asked, pointing to her attire.

"Oh these? It's my uniform. Archmage Nightgaze asked me to be his student along with Trenton when we first got here. I figured I'd see what all the fuss is about."

"Well congratulations! D-Does that mean you've given up demon binding?" Hanariel asked, air catching in his throat for a moment as the momentary pride in Keesha's aura suddenly sank.

"No, why would I? Because I found the light or some shit?" Keesha asked crossing her arms. A slight reddish tone came to Hanariel's cheeks as he bowed his head in apology.

"I did not mean to imply that! Mages aren't considered the holiest of people—not that there's anything wrong with mages! Some of my best friends are mages…" Hanariel sighed, blue eyes begging Keesha to understand his sentiment. But she did not intervene, warm brown eyes and smirking red lips eager to watch him dig his own grave deeper. "I just meant that juggling two magical disciplines can be too difficult for most, t-that's all."

"So, you're saying I'm not TALENTED enough to learn two schools of magic?" Keesha could barely keep a straight face as Hanariel's skin grew redder by the moment. At the moments passed, the bubble pressure with became too much as a laugh erupted from Keesha's lips, so booming that it caused a few nearby denizens to turn around and search for the cause of the noise. A strong, warm hand came down to pat his shoulder as he felt the heat in his face slowly begin to recede. "I'm only messing with you, Han! You should see the look on your face." She smiled, causing him to nervously chuckle.

"That's good. I didn't mean to offend you." Hanariel admitted, careful not to speak too much. Keesha shook her head with a smile.

"Nah, I know you're not like that. Tell you what, let's go grab some food. I don't know about your lessons but mine give me the munchies."

"You're not using herbs in your incantations are you?" Hanariel smiled with a raised brow. Keesha shook her head.

"If I were you'd know it. So what are you in the mood for?" Keesha asked as they began walking back in the direction of the restaurants. Hanariel pondered for a moment but decided it would be best to let Keesha choose. He quickly found himself surrounded by animal pelts, animal heads, and all manner of once living beasts. Despite the fact that he only ate meat sparingly, he reviewed the menu with some attention. When orders were placed and filled, a steaming bowl of beef and barely soup met his eye and a massive plate of beer battered boar ribs, beef chili, and corn bread graced the space in front of Keesha. The smell nearly caused the willowy elf to wilt.

"Are you going to eat all that?" He asked in wonder as the woman across from him took her napkin and daintily placed it in her lap.

"Why, want some? The food here is really good here according to Trenton; smells good that's for sure." Hanariel's gut reaction was to shake his head and yet his hand found its way to a small appetizer plate. Keesha severed two of the ribs from the rack and placed it on the plate, and spooned a small amount of chili next to it. It took all his self control not to suspiciously sniff the contents. But in his hesitation, he could hear his table-mate beginning her feast, sounds of pleasure and satisfaction enticing him to grab a fork. As he attempted to sink its metal teeth into the sauce-drenched pig meat, Keesha put down the uncovered bone in her hand and waved for him to stop. She waited until most of the food was swallowed before speaking. "No, you don't eat that with a fork—pick it up."

"I most certainly will not; it's covered in sauce."

"So? Don't be so stuffy."

"I'm an elf, it is my birthright." He jokingly sniped causing Keesha to smile and continue feeding. But in his stubborn efforts, he managed to drop the boar rib right into his lap. To his dismay, the napkin he was given still rested, unfolded, on the table. Defeated and robes ruined, he picked up the offending food and took a big bite out of it in seeming retribution for falling from his fork. The annoyed look on his face slowly turned to one of surprised and then culinary joy. The tender meat seemed to melt from the bone as its savory flavor, blended with the carefully crafted sauce was neither too spicy nor overwhelming. Unlike the rough cuisine he endured in his travels, from start to finish the food was given the finest care in both butchery and baking and the taste reflected its preparers' efforts.

"This is… is really good." He admitted, choosing to take another bite rather than clean the large stain settling into his fine robe. When the bone was all that remained, he took the napkin beside him, dipped it in the complimentary water and began cleaning the settled spot on his legs.

"See, that's what happens when you try something new." Keesha said, holding back a series of small burps. "Is your dress going to be ok?" She asked, as Hanariel continued to scrub.

"These are heavenly robes, thank you very much. And we'll see. If they're too far gone I can just make another one. Lady Whitedeer introduced me to a wonderful fabric seller and clothier on one of the upper rings." He said, dipping the soiled napkin back into the water and continued to salvage the robe.

"Speaking of that how is your training or vacation or whatever it is you do up there going?" She asked, taking a gulp of her free water.

"It's interesting to say the least. The air seems crisper up there, it must be the atmosphere. It's not as busy as well so it makes getting to my meditation space a lot easier. But I prefer it in the middle tree. It's easier to blend in and a lot less gawkers, if you understand what I mean." Hanariel spoke was a flash of a smile. Keesha tilted her head for a moment before replying.

"You're a war hero, why would anyone gawk at you? So you lost an arm, doesn't make you any less of a person." She asserted. Her words caused a laugh, far louder than Keesha thought possible from the priest whose aura seemed to brighten once more.

"No, no—it's not that! The vast majority of people in the upper levels of the tree are night elves—"

"Racists..."

"No, not all of them. Many have never seen someone like me. Many of their experiences with elves from Quel'Thalas have either been after the sunwell was destroyed or they are elders from when my ancestors were exiled from Kalimdor. They always either check my eyes or my priestly garb before approaching me. It honestly doesn't bother me but it's nice to blend in a bit." Hanariel smiled for a moment as he paused to look at the dark lady who, if Lady Whitedeer had her way, would banish from his company. His thoughts were interrupted for a moment when a confused "what?" caught his ears. He jolted for a moment before giving a nervous laugh.

"Oh nothing…it's sort of funny that's all."

"What's sorta funny?"

"Well as you pointed out not all "lighty-whities" are very accepting people. When I mentioned you to Lady Whitedeer she all but cringed. But for what it's worth, I do enjoy spending time with you. We should do this more often, when you're not in class of course." He spoke with sincerity in his pale blue gaze. Keesha did not seem indignant as a waitress came by and refreshed their drinks, offering to bring a hot towel to assist in the abandoned clean up effort.

"Sure. Nightgaze wouldn't be too happy to see me hanging out with you either. But why were you talking about me to Whitedeer?" Keesha asked, handing her polished plate to the waitress. Hanariel thought for a moment but his gut told him that the incident in the safe room was not meant to be secret, at least not to his current audience. He told Keesha about the amazing safe room, filled with a malleable environment bent to its guest's will. The detail about his desire to show her the space was dwarfed by his strange experiences there. He told her about the branches' assault that resolved in strange and realistic visions but no visible signs of injury. Hanariel described his visions but spared her the small details of names and possible places that the events occurred. His words made her shutter.

"This place is all kinds of weird. The roots of the tree are alive too but Nightgaze controls them. He's making me fight them in some kind of lesson or something. Says if I solve this dumb puzzle he made up then it'll all make sense. All I have to say is: it better!" Keesha shook her head as she idly flipped through the desert menu.

"It will. I'm actually looking forward to my next vision. Maybe the fuzz will grow a little thicker." He smiled as their attention turned to the waitress, who after disposing of their finished lunches returned to inquire about desert. Keesha and Hanariel's eyes met for a moment and despite their bulging guts still managed to find a little more room for something sweet.

* * *

"You called for me, SIR?" an irritated voice growled. Lord Nightgaze's attention didn't shift from his scrying bowl.

"Watch your tone with me boy." He calmly spoke with a soothing tone as his brow furrowed in strained concentration. When the faces in the bowl began digging into what appeared to be two small sundaes, he banished the image and slowly turned to see a bumped and bruised Trenton standing and scowling in his direction.

"I apologize, my lord; I'm just getting a little tired of playing the court jester." He hissed while walking sideways as not to cast a defiant gaze to his master. But no retort or punishment came.

"We have to keep up appearances. You have gone far beyond my expectations in helping me monitor them and we will only need to endure this a little longer. This pair is far more…forward thinking than I anticipated. We will give them a little more time for Mydrassil to make its communications. If they succeed in learning their lessons, we will administer the final test." Seth spoke with a nod, referring to Trenton's restaurant tip leading the two to one of the few that were actually monitored for other reasons. Luckily it was early enough in the day for the pair to avoid those drunken, rowdy reasons.

"I hope they are fast learners." Trenton mumbled, rubbing his whiplash-injured neck.

"Patience. You will have your reward if they prove themselves worthy. But until then, watch over our students." Seth soothed. His deep voice seemed to lessen the irritation in Trenton's mood, but not in the stinging wounds that plagued him. Trenton bowed as deep as his injuries would allow, Seth raising a hand and shaking his head for his subordinate to stop.

"I will see mother about these injuries. Damn healers can't mend a paper cut!" Trenton grumbled. Seth conjured the young mage's favorite beverage, cold human-made ale, and handed to him. Trenton gratefully took an undignified swig.

"Your mother will be busy today. Her friends in The Earthen Ring have finally arrived. She will be reacquainting herself with them I'd imagine." Seth nodded. Trenton's pout rivaled that of his adoptive sister's.

"Is mother building an army or something? Why would she need to bring MORE people here? Its claustrophobic enough as it is." He hissed, realizing his informal tone he quickly apologized. Seth's gaze remained calm.

"I do not disagree with your assessment. If I had my way only those worthy of this tree's power would be here." Seth sneered. His expression lightened slightly as thoughts of all the druids, priests, and rabble were sent packing to wherever they came from. Before he could finish his thought, Trenton interjected.

"Mother loves you; couldn't you persuade her, make her see reason?" Trenton's words held no true malice but the look in his eyes earned him a stern look. He felt his shoulder's shiver just a little.

"I would never take someone so weak minded to be swayed in such a way as a mate. Imply that again and I'll make sure your words get back to her."

"I-I'm sorry I spoke stupidly."

"Anyway, as I was saying. If I'd have my way none of these "people" would be here but in her wisdom, your mother knows we have many enemies and if I had my way, we would be wholly unprepared if attacked."

"Attacked by whom? The Alliance? The Horde?"

"That is none of your concern." Seth hissed, tone quashing any further retort. Trenton felt a pang within and nodded in submission. Seth waved his subordinate off as his favorite scrying bowl seemed to beacon, longing for his golden gaze to grace its trembling waters once more.


	14. Flea 14: Mortal Strike

**Straydog Saga**

Flea 14: Mortal Strike

* * *

The figures in the road were cloaked in more than tattered fabric. The shadows that lingered in the cursed landscape seemed to bathe their rotten forms. Stitched flesh, barely able to cling to bone hung loose on their extremities. Their leader, however, seemed a little better for the wear. Her pallid face was testament to her true state while blazing red eyes seemed to call all who fell within their vengeful sight to an early death. The dark ranger Perrywyn Highraven, like her beloved leader, had little else but vengeance on her mind. The giant black widow spider at her side was a gift from one of the first Forsaken able to tame the beasts and its dripping mandibles seemed all to ready to strike. She smiled at the beast, among the very creatures that had no trouble reducing her quarry to a shivering mess, and spoke kind words as they waited. The rabble, only a few moments down the road headed to the Timbermaw Hold, was extraordinarily loud and clumsy in the dangerous wood. Whether it was confidence or ignorance that lead them forward so carelessly did not seem to matter to the gathering of living corpses, who waited silently for the chance to strike. The forest itself disguised their putrid scent and no breath or pounding heart could betray their positions. There were no signs of interference, as none of the sentinels yet made their way north of Ashenvale to search for the outlaws. A sudden sound caught in Highraven's ear as she motioned for her fellow undead to move into position, well hidden amongst the rotten trees and dead grass. A few moments later the sound of muted laughter and conversation came with the creeping breeze.

* * *

"Don't worry pup, we'll get you fixed up. Just a bit more." Meryld assured as she helped prop up the drooping rogue with Ima holding strong on his other side. The group seemed refreshed after their uncomfortable but much needed rest. Daggerfang's nose was growing cold again, but his tongue still lolled and his paws still struggled to move him forward.

"You don't need ta…ta do all this…I think, I think I can walk…"

"No, no no. You just leave it to us. When we get to Winterspring I'll make you some nice troll sweat-sweet, troll SWEET tea! It always perks me up after a long trip, heh." Imajin offered. The sentiment brought a nervous smile to the worgen's face.

Shandori and F-Bomb, leading the pack, did their best not to giggle out loud at F-Bomb's sorted tales of youthful misdeeds. All the while Christoffel and Maiev's attention seemed fixated to the treacherous surroundings. Christoffel felt a strange tenseness in his chest. Each step forward seemed like a dreadful movement. He did his best to quash the stinging in his mind, muttering that it was just his surroundings playing tricks on him. A snapping branch sent his nimble fingers to his hip. In one fluid moment, a throwing knife went whizzing through the air in the direction of the sound. A pained death-screech was its reply. Some small creature, careless in its daily business, met its fate at Christoffel's trembling grip. He walked over to where the creature lay, just to the side of the road and retrieved his weapon.

"This is a horrible place…it plays with your mind." Maiev shuttered. Christoffel said nothing but nodded in agreement. Maiev did her best to focus on the reality she existed in, instead of the one constantly biting at her mind. Her vision darted to the rogue and back to the road. With a sigh she began to speak, words anchoring her in the moment.

"H-Have you ever been to Winterspring before?" She asked, in as soft a tone as she was capable of. Christoffel questioningly grunted before responding.

"Once or twice as a boy…you?"

"I used to go there all the time when I was training as a priestess. That was quite a long time ago."

"The stories never mentioned that." Christoffel spoke, eyes coaxing Maiev to continue. Maiev's pale brow rose for a moment before her lips began moving again.

"I don't know what stories you've been told but they never do. I was particularly close to the high priestess, the one before…the one currently holding the position. I was being groomed as her successor, or so I thought. I've been told it simply wasn't meant to be." She snorted. Dormant hate began to bubble behind her pale eyes but the heat quickly cooled as Christoffel's comforting words met her ears.

"That's alright. Maiev the Priestess of Elune blessing the wicked wouldn't have been as good. My mother liked to tell me about your adventures, fighting the Burning Legion and the mad queen. She was never a fan of druids so I never heard much about the other night elves. My favorite was the one where Jarod Shadowsong rallied the night elf armies after a nearly crushing defeat to come back and fight the Burning Legion." Christoffel said with a bit of spring finding its way into his step. Maiev smiled at the mention of that name.

"My brother is extraordinarily brave, that is true. But your parents told you Kal'Dorei stories? How old are you?" Maiev asked with a raised brow. Christoffel shrugged.

"I'm only about 60 or so, I lost count some time ago. My mother just had a taste for controversial things. Besides I could look up Quel'Dorei stories anytime. It was rare to hear tales about the ancients with the prejudice and all. I myself don't really have anything against you tree-hugging, moon worshiping warrior women. Except for that one over there, she's a menace."

"I heard that, demon sucker." Shandori growled over her shoulder, causing a small smirk to come to the blood elf's expression. Christoffel found himself surprised to see a small, calm smile on Maiev's face.

"What?" Christoffel asked. Maiev closed her eyes and slowly shook her head.

"It's nothing." Maiev nodded, the warmth in her eyes confirming her words. "We're nearly there." She said with a nod, vision instructing Christoffel to take in the sight of the great, gnarled entrance. Though the massive structure was still a 10 minute walk, it dominated their field of vision. The group felt their legs spirited forward, as their escape from the festering landscape was nearly in arm's reach. Just as they reached the final bend another twig snapped. This time it was Maiev, glaive in hand, that tensed in preparation from what may come from the dark places in the wood. Instead of some benign creature, Maiev's glaive struck a deadly projectile that would have pierced her collarbone had it not been for a quick and skillful strike. The object fell to the stony ground in pieces, venom dripping from its arrowhead.

"Get Down!" Maiev called as a volley of deadly arrows began raining upon them. The ground where the deadly shower struck began to melt and rot with a sickening hiss. The group struggled to get off the road and into the safety of the nearby brush, but they quickly found much more than rats within. The arrows, though laced with green death, served to herd part of the group into the waiting arms of more Forsaken assailants. Maiev and Christoffel took cover on the opposite side of the road, heading in the direction of the volley's origin. But where Shandori and the others stood, several rogues, jawless and eyeless, moved with unnatural accuracy as F-Bomb struggled to cast a lightning spell in time. The shock managed to knock the undead back long enough for Ima and Meryld to get Daggerfang in a relatively safe position and for Shandori to strap her hulking shield to her arm. Daggerfang's eyes began to turn a bloodshot red as the sight of the creatures that ravaged his homeland and destroyed his old life began to bear down on them. Despite his injuries the snarling worgen did his best to stand.

"Monsters…I'll KILL UM!" Daggerfang howled, but the action only served to send him to his knees. Shandori's eyes remained on their attackers but she did her best to address the raging worgen.

"Don't you worry yourself, boy. There'll be plenty of bones for you to bury when we're through." Shandori smirked as she launched herself towards their attackers. Their swinging strikes clanged futilely against her weathered buckler and one rogue felt the full strength of Shandori's shield as it came crashing into his ribcage. The force of the blow was more than enough to shatter his ribs and nearly sever his spine. F-Bomb set up her totems and as more undead attackers surrounded them, she began to chant a spell of shattering earth. At once the ground beneath the undead began to rumble as rocky shards rose up and struck their legs and feet. One fell into the shifting earth and was crushed between the cracks. Those who remained felt the pure, smashing rage that was Meryld in her worgen form. Massive weapons crashed down upon them, severing limbs like they were made of dry straw. Ima busied herself with keeping Daggerfang safe from their attackers and his own bravado, casting the occasional slow of freezing spell in the direction of the fray. While the battle in the open was being fought, Maiev and Christoffel sank in the shadows in hopes of finding the treacherous archer but their limited tracking abilities in the rank surroundings made the ranger's escape as effortless as walking.

Maiev felt a wet muck slap against the back of her heavy boots. As she moved, her feet began to stick to the ground until she nearly fell forward. Another few globs hit her arms and hands, as they two became motionless. Though she struggled, another few globs draped her form, barely allowing her to breathe. She managed to let out a warning call before her face was covered in the thick coating. By the time Christoffel managed to find her again, Maiev was a wriggling shell. His eyes went wide, as realization of what they were dealing with came with a sharp bite in the leg. His thick leather pants prevented the venomous maw from digging deep into his flesh. But the sight of the furry mandible and glossy black eyes nearly made him screech.

"SHIT!" He yelped as he began frantically stabbing the creature in the face, causing it to scream and dig its teeth deeper in. With a terrible crawling in his chest and mind, Christoffel stabbed the creature repeatedly until the acrid puss that was its blood ran to the ground in splotches. The beast stopped moving but the rogue hand to pry its jaw open to be free of its bite. He quickly kicked the dead creature away before turning to the still struggling Maiev. He ran to her side and managed to peal off some of the webbing around her mouth before he felt something hard hit him in the back of the head. He slumped forward, a dark gloved hand pulling him back and dragging him away from the still trapped Maiev. Highraven whispered in his ear, with a voice as cold as the knife at Christoffel's throat: "I warned you what would happen…" With a gasp she felt the weight in her arms shift as Christoffel grabbed her by the arm and rolled his body forward, sending her over his shoulder. A deep cut to his neck and the sound of an indignant thud was his reward. Still dazed, Christoffel reached for the knife, still clutched in Highraven's grasp but the dark ranger rolled into the grass and out of sight. Christoffel cursed and stumbled back to Maiev, who in her determination, managed to free her right arm and parts of her chest. Christoffel clawed at the webbing at her legs and stomach, rendering her a killing force once more.

"W-We have to get out of here." Christoffel gasped for air, a look of terror running through his typically stoic eyes. Maiev placed a hand on his shoulder, steadying him.

"What are we dealing with?" She demanded, as she led him back to where the others fought.

"A dark ranger named Highraven, Page of the Banshee Queen. She's very bad news." He choked; face going a tint paler than his usual hue. Maiev studied his features intently, griping her glaive with a little more intensity.

"Why does she and her minions strike against ones of her own faction?" Maiev asked with slight recoil as the realization of what sort of people he had been associating with sparked in her racing mind.

"I knew her as a friend in life but as you can see, that is no longer the case." He spoke resisting the urge to vomit as the recent images of a giant spider gnawing on his leg kept popping up over and over again in his head.

"Get it together. Its obvious by her strategy that you're the one she wants and she'll succeed in her efforts if you let yourself go to pieces." She commanded with a voice reminiscent of a great leader rather than a broken old woman. Christoffel felt a jolt go through him but the nausea and fear did sink slightly. When the pair returned, there was a bone yard waiting for them. Not a single sign of un-life twitched within the severed limbs and disembodied heads that littered the scene. Maiev snorted at the block of ice that was the berserk Meryld as Christoffel's eyes frantically darted to each tree and rock in search of the slightest hint of movement.

"I had to, she wouldn't stop…" Ima sighed, hefting the still trembling Daggerfang. He used all of his strength to kick the bones into the underbrush.

"What the hell was that about? It was like knocking down a bunch of rum bottles…" Shandori panted, placing her shield in its resting place on her back.

"An associate of Christoffel's led the charge it seems. The ones you fought were likely no more than a convenient distraction to isolate the target. Unfortunately she did not get him alone." Maiev spoke with a questioning glace. Christoffel nodded.

"What, why?" Ima asked with confusion in her youthful eyes.

"I'll explain everything once we're in Winterspring. Now let's go." Shandori felt her smug look shift into one of concern at the shivering sight of her constant companion. In all the months they spent in the most deplorable and terrifying of places, she had never seen his shoulder's so tense, hairs seeming to stand on end.

"Calm down, Chris. We got your back. Her little bone buddies didn't last 5 minutes." Shandori insisted. But her words did little to return the color to his face.

"Its part of her planning; this is no time to be smug!" Christoffel spoke with desperation in his voice and an irate look on his face. "In life Highraven could take out 4 fully grown ogre-mages in a matter of seconds. I don't want to think of what she could do to us in death." He hissed. The tone caused Shandori's smirk to return but her gaze averted and she felt her feet slide backwards in his sight. She snorted and looked to Meryld who was beginning to thaw.

"Whatever. Once she's melted we'll just get to Timbermaw and be done with it." She sighed as Ima began helping the process along with a heat spell. But just as it seemed the dust was beginning to settle, the group heard a terrifying shriek. At once they felt their throats began to constrict and close. They could not movie their lips to speak and did everything in their power to breathe. A pair of smiling red eyes watched from a nearby oak tree and the girlish laugh that came sounded almost angelic. As the group stammered and struggled for breath, Highraven immerged, dripping blades in each hand and a razor sharp smile on her pale face. Christoffel, F-Bomb, a nearly thawed Meryld, and Daggerfang collapsed in their efforts to take in air. Maiev, Ima, and Shandori still stood but were not far behind. Highraven seemed to float towards Shandori and with a curious tilt of her head she coolly spoke.

"I find your lack of faith disturbing." She said with a sweet expression warping into a maddened grin as she swiftly kicked Shandori in the stomach, sending her careening backwards into a tree. She looked to Ima and F-bomb and resisted the urge to spit. "Disgusting alliance loving traitors all. I'd say you have quite a following, Stingblade." She said as she took in an unnaturally long breath. Another piercing shriek threatened to cut through the scene as the silencing spell, which was starting to wane, was fully renewed. She turned and slowly moved to where Christoffel knelt. Eyes wide and face turning a slight shade of blue, he felt a dark gloved hand gently move his chin. She slowly retracted the touch and glared through him, briefly remembering what she used to feel when her heart still raced to be in his presence. "I gave you a chance to redeem yourself. But I see no hope in that. I should have known better than to waste my time on something as flawed as that. But all is not lost." She softly, almost lovingly spoke. Shandori watched as Highraven slowly pulled a small green vial from her waste pouch. She opened the stopper and poured the strange, almost gel like substance onto her blade. Each weak attempt Christoffel made to stop the action resulted in an easy block. Highraven gently stroked Christoffel's cheek before issuing one quick grab and pull, lifting the dizzied rogue up and onto his feet by the throat.

"You know I've spent much time planning this little game. Let you struggle, kill you quickly? Every scenario seemed to brighten my day. But in the end…" Her head began to tilt in a half shake, half wobble as she lifted the coated blade high and jammed in into his chest. The blade effortlessly cut through the seemingly thin leather and dug deep into his flesh, missing his heart by a blade's edge. She lifted the curse on his throat to allow an agonized scream to escape into her ear's longing embrace. "I'm a girl who has little time to play." She sighed as she forced the blade deeper, twisting it with a euphoric smile. But her glee, nourished by Christoffel's screams, was quickly drained by a crushing blow to the side of her neck. The swiping blow sent her to her side, black blood and small bits of flesh showering the nearby shrubs and trees. In her haste and impatient glee, her uncontrolled curse removal was not targeted enough and the shadow of a panting but now breathing warrior loomed over her dazed form. Shandori looked to see the rogue on the ground, grabbing at the poisoned knife still embedded in his chest and writhing in sheer pain.

"What did you do to him?" Shandori spoke in a voice that seemed to be in the white heat of rage. Highraven was startled but lost none of her nimble movements. She was quickly on her feet and attempted to cast another banshee wail. But Shandori's movement came first, striking her in the crux of her throat with the butt of her sword. Her voice box was utterly crushed, and airway closed. Though the latter did not matter to her kind, she could not cast her most devastating spell. Blood red eyes darted to any small path of escape as one by one the members of Shandori's group began to stand and rally. She found herself quickly moving to block angry blows was the warrior swung with rage behind white-hot eyes. Highraven effortlessly blocked and parried each attack with her long knives but the force behind the attacks rattled her. She quickly found herself pushed back at the edge of a small cliff. Her heel stopped just at the edge, eyes quickly darting to see green pools and a deep fall waiting for her if she failed. She did her best to side step but she could not move without there being a strike waiting for her. Time seemed to slow as Shandori began pooling all her strength. For the first time since her death, Highraven felt herself shutter. The aura of rage and retribution emanating from the night elf was nearly enough to drive the dark ranger over the edge. Black blood began to drip from her bruised lips. She gaped, unable to speak as Shandori suddenly relented. Highraven sank to her knees, bruised and cornered but knives still gripped to strike.

"STAND UP!" Shandori boomed as her plated boot came down to crush one of the ranger's hands. She opened her mouth but only a small, bubbling squeak came. Like its twin, her other hand was soon felled. Shandori grabbed Highraven by the shoulder and drug her onto her feet. White vision met red and for a moment Shandori hesitated. But the sound of Christoffel screaming reverberated in her audible memory. Highraven's eyes were a wash with fear as no smirk or small came with Shandori's next words.

"You just lost the game." She hissed as she lifted her leg and gave Highraven a thunderous kick to the stomach. Her cloak flowed forward as Highraven hurled over the edge of the cliff, hitting the ground with a sickening crunch. Shandori peered over the edge, sword ready to come down on the dark ranger but the pool of black blood forming beneath Highraven and the blankness in her open eyes was enough to lower Shandori's guard. The aura of rage that still lingered was instantly vanquished by a pained cry from behind. Shandori's heart sank as her feet quickly carried her back to the others, who were grouped around the trembling blood elf. She shoved Ima out of the way and took her place beside him. F-Bomb struggled to cure the poison that devoured the living flesh his now rotten wound but she never studied the art of cleansing. The smell that came from the wound was enough to turn Shandori's stomach. She looked with fear and uncertainty in her eyes to the others who seemed helpless in easing his pain.

"Plague." Daggerfang grunted as he moved to remove the blade from Christoffel's chest.

"Are ya crazy, he'll bleed out!" F-Bomb squeaked.

"Th'longer that thing stays in, th'less time he's got. I know th'smell." Daggerfang growled and tore strips of cloth from his shirt into a wad. Before anyone could stop him, Daggerfang pulled the plague-laced blade out with no reaction from the ailing Christoffel. The flesh around the blade had completely rotted, leaving no living flesh to feel further pain. Black, corroded blood bubbled from the wound. Shandori thoughtlessly moved a gloved hand to remove the bits of dead filth and rot as it threatened to overtake more healthy flesh. The small dots of black rot that found its way to her skin dully burned. Once the majority of the plague-rotted flesh was removed, Daggerfang applied the linen-wad to the gaping hole and pressed. But by then Christoffel was drenched in sweat. He struggled to keep consciousness. The only thing keeping his eyes open was Shandori's nervous encouragement. His eyes struggled to focus on her soft, vulnerable looking face. For the first time since they'd met, he saw tears forming in her eyes, or perhaps it was the sweat dripping into his own, he was unsure.

"We've got to get him to a healer, now!" Shandori shouted, moving to pick him up. "Help me!" She shouted, causing Ima to rush to his side.

"We won't make it to Winterspring in time." Maiev sadly spoke, unable to meet Shandori's desperate gaze.

"Well then where, WHERE?" Shandori snapped. Her eyes darted to anyone who could answer. But each face seemed as tired and helpless as her own.

"Moonglade." Daggerfang reluctantly spoke. "It's a neutral zone. Its close by and we'll find plenty oo'll elp 'im there." He nodded.

"What makes you think the druids will help someone like him? My people wont and I know many tauren who hold distaste for blood elves." Maiev grunted.

"I…know someone there. She wont be able ta turn down a wounded puppy, so to speak." Daggerfang sighed doing his best to walk despite the pain in his legs.

"We'll still hafta negotiate with the Timbermaw to get there." F-Bomb insisted as the group began to move with hastened steps.

"Whatever lets just get going!" Shandori spoke with a shaking voice. When they finally made it to the hold, only one furry face was there to greet them. One of the sagely Furbolgs, grey haired and long in the tooth, looked to them with suspicion until a flash of green caught his vision. He greeted the little goblin as an old friend, F-bomb forced to take the time to return the sentiment. She spoke with great speed as the elder struggled to make sense of her words. But one look at the two rogues spoke more than the goblin could ever hope to. With his permission the group entered the Timbermaw hold dreading the possibility of emerging one member short.


	15. Flea 15: Arrival and the Reunion

**Straydog Saga**

Flea 15: Arrival and the Reunion

* * *

Orifiel waited in one of the small, branch-made reception rooms the Pinnacle Bow with energy coursing through her tapping feat. Though the action seemed impatient, the bubbles that were brewing within were filled with a lighthearted nervousness. The response from the Earthen Ring was not only favorable but smile-evoking as one of the names mentioned was one that lingered in her long memory. The images of many warm nights on her first big mission spent dancing and drinking sweet nectar wrapped her mind in a colorful ribbon. Romulus had met the group days before, providing tours and other light hearted activities before their proposed work was to start. She paced around the small foyer, doing her best to keep her helm on straight as it shifted with her shaking movements. Orifiel felt her shoulders jump a little as she heard Romulus's voice just a few steps beyond the doorway. The sound of many pairs of footsteps ascending the staircase made her breath catch in her throat. She did her best to calm the beating heart within, all anxiousness seemingly vanquished at the sight of a familiar, bright eyed face. Though she often remained poised, stoic, and aloof to her subordinates, Orifiel could not help but crack a wide smile as a friendly squeal was sent billowing her way.

"OREE-FEE-EL! It has been so long time!" The young looking woman with perfectly polished hooves, vibrant violet skin, and delicately angled horns spoke with a heavy accent. Long, curled black hair seemed to act as streamers as she ran forward, much to the horror of her associates, and gave Mydrassil's steward a huge bear hug. The action sent Orifiel's hood-like mask flying from her face and to the floor but the smile beneath eased all tension in the Earthen Ring members' faces.

"I-I'm to assume you two know one another, Lady Whitedeer?" Romulus chuckled as the hug persisted.

"Violetina and I go way back." Orifiel admitted, trying not to suffocate in the shaman's loving iron grip. When the ordeal was over, Violetina patted her old friend on the shoulder and took her by the hand, leading her to where her fellow shamans stood.

"I was so happy when you call me! I start tinking you forget me…" Violetina pouted but the action was short lived. Orifiel shook her head and nervously laughed.

"How could I forget you? I've just been so busy."

"I can see, nice big tree, strong and tall. You and Set do a great job. You sure you not a druid?" Violetina asked as a few of the others humored her small joke. Orifiel motioned to the other shamans, whose shifting stances told of their growing discomfort. Romulus cleared his throat. "O-Oh yes. Sorry I forget myself. Let me introduce!" Violetina moved with a girlish hop over to where the rest of the druids stood. Like a tour guide of the elements, the perky Draenei motioned to each of her fellow shamans and friends in introduction.

"Tis is Jango, he is lead healing shaman on team. Best wit water element." The green-haired troll bowed, long mammoth-tusks nearly touching the floor.

"Next is Mar'duk. He is best wit fire." Violetina said, watching with smiling eyes as night elf and young orc bowed in mutual respect.

"Short one is Tel-ma Torn-Beer—"

"Thelma Thornbear…" The dwarf sighed with a tone that visited the correction many times before.

"Tat is what I say, Tel-ma Torn-Beer. She is expert wit eart element. You know me, Violetina best wit air element. And ah…" Violetina looked to the last person in their group. Her questioning look seemed to wait for approval. The elder shaman nodded and moved to remove the hood that covered his warn green face.

"Head shaman, Trall, best at all elements." Violetina nodded. Orifiel's eyes went wide at the sight of the blue eyed orc she had only read about in adventure stories. His hair was mostly grey with a few youthful black strands remaining. The lines in his face were deep but the power and resolve behind his calm eyes seemed to be bottomless.

"T-Thrall? Sir it is an honor. I didn't expect Earthen Ring leadership to send you for this project. " Orifiel bowed low, a slight flush running to her cheeks. The action caused the elder orc to chuckle and take a step forward.

"There isn't any need for that, Ms. Whitedeer. We stand as equals. Leadership recognized your request as extremely important. Please do not deprecate the crucial work you do here." Thrall nodded. Orifiel, barely able to keep her feet firmly on the floor, straightened and did her best to keep her composure.

"I don't know if I can agree, sir. But I hope that my task does not prove too tedious for someone who has done what you have done for this world." Orifiel spoke, quickly reaching for the mask on the ground and placing it over her flushed face. Thrall did not press the matter but cast a scolding look to his team members, who seemed to think the night elf's reaction to his presence snigger-worthy. Orifiel motioned for the group to follow, deep into the center of the tree. The younger shamans marveled at how the white branches moved at the steward's touch and seemed to respond to her silent thoughts. When the group reached the center of the massive bramble of branches they entered a narrow room, the woven walls seemed to reach beyond the sky. In the very center of the room was a column of swirling energies, both arcane and elemental. Three mages stood in a triangle around the column, each straining to keep the chaotic energies in balance. In the very center of the column was a large, stony object that seemed to shine from within.

"Whoa, what is dat?" Jango marveled as the object slowly turned on an invisible axis in the constant flow of energy.

"This is why I requested your presence." Orifiel turned with a small smile before allowing the mages to finish their incantations and take a break. The flowing energy seemed to diminish greatly, and only the very basic magic that held it aloft remained. "This is the fruit of the White Branch Initiative's labors."

"Does not look like fruit..." Violetina tilted her head. Orifiel sighed and continued.

"It's a figure of speech. This is the result of years of development and implementation and now we've reached the final stages of its completion."

"What exactly IS it?" Thelma interrupted, eyebrow raised and expression slightly sour. Orifiel paused for a moment, going through the right words in her mind.

"Since the tree was planted in such a strange and historically powerful place, we needed to ensure that the chaotic energy it fed on did not corrupt the tree or attract corrupters. The diamond itself acts as remnant, a purified and harmless left over of the cleansing process. But as a precaution we continuously ward the gem, checking for any signs of corruption or tampering. The druids and light-workers have run their scans, and Lord Redmane's mages are completing there's. The final step in the process for this gem will be the elemental warding. That is where you all come in." Orifiel motioned for the shamans to approach the circular platform at the base of the column. Four of the five nearly felt their legs collapse in the presence of such power, while Thrall found himself wincing at the brightness reflecting within the gem as its radiance stung his aged eyes. Orifiel waved her hands around the radiant gem, coaxing it to dim its inner light. Though the brightness did diminish, the four young shamans still found their legs to be shaking.

"This task will take some time." Thrall warned but his questioning gaze met a cool, unnervingly peaceful smile.

"You have all the time in the world."

* * *

Shandori struggled to keep an even tone as anything above a whisper seemed to make the elf in the apple cart beside her wince. Christoffel's wound was growing, the black sludge that was once his own flesh crawled its way further into his system. The sight of once benign tumors along his chest, swollen and green, nearly made Shandori look away. But it was her attention and her voice that kept Christoffel conscious as he was carried in a small fruit cart on loan from F-bomb's furbolg friends. The group surrounded the ailing elf as Shandori held his weak hand and spoke. Sometimes the words were soothing, other times they were about mundane nothings. Each time her voice began to fail, Chris would make his best attempt at words to keep hers flowing. Daggerfang, healed by a renewed sense of purpose lead the pack, sniffing for any sign of company in the lush, dreamy landscape. No one could see the dread in his blazing gold eyes but his hair was even and his steps were relaxed. Nothing that could come from the bushes caused his quickened heart beat, but what could be waiting for him in the sacred town just rising over the small hill.

Nighthaven's rooftops brought a glimmer of hope to Shandori's vision as she assured Chris that they were nearly there. When they entered the placid village, all eyes seemed to be transfixed on them. Some recognized the scarred night elf to be the very same person drawn on many wanted posters. But all who would have acted looked to the hulking Tauren guards and continued about their business. Daggerfang flipped through the images in his memory. He memorized where the small pub was and a few of the shops of interest. When his keen vision caught sight of a tall wooden sign with an even cross, he waved the cart-pullers on. When they reached the entrance to the modest hospital, Daggerfang helped Ima lift Chris from the apple cart and onto his motionless feet. A young night elf woman immerged to greet them. She took a step back with a gasp at the sight before her. Despite Christoffel's horrific state, it was Shandori's face that caused her to take another step back.

"He needs help!" Shandori spoke, in a voice so diminished it hardly seemed to come from the lips of the lawless warrior. The young druid froze, looking to Christoffel for a moment before resting again on Shandori. When she slowly began to shake her head, a roar nearly sent her falling backwards. The curses that flew from Shandori's mouth caused Christoffel to wince but give a weak chuckle.

"S-Shut 'er up. She's killin' me." He joked, coughing a little as he spoke. Shandori quickly clamped her mouth shut but her words did more than cause him discomfort. By then onlookers were beginning to gather with curiosity and slight disgust at the scene. Those who were bold enough to comment at the sight of a blood elf in the caring arms of a night elf quickly found themselves hushed by Maiev's fierce vision.

"What is goin' on out there?" A shrill voice, asked from within the infirmary doors. A tall human-looking woman with long brown hair and deep chestnut eyes immerged. Her druidic garb flowed behind her as she hurried down the steps to stand beside the night elf nurse.

"My Lady, we have a problem." The night elf nurse turned to find a look of worry on the druid's face.

"I'd say so, what 'appened to 'im-YOU!" She shouted, worry quickly changing to outrage as the furry vision of Daggerfang overtook the sad sight of Christoffel.

"Er…'ello, love. Life treatin' ya well?" He asked with a nervous, fang-filled grin. A growl came from deep within the druid's throat as a small wind started swirling around her. Darkness rose where the human woman once stood and when the energy abated a great chestnut colored worgen stood in her place. The snarling beast of a woman slowly approached, claws glistening with anger and mouth hungry for the flesh at Daggerfang's throat. Meryld instinctively pulled F-Bomb and Ima out of the fuming worgen's path.

"Eliza, darling, sw-sweetie, buttercup? C-Calm down, people are watching!" Daggerfang yelped as Eliza crouched, ready to strike.

"Um, EXCUSE ME, but we have a poisoned elf over here that needs some medical attention?" Shandori desperately looked for anyone in the strange scene who would help as she struggled to hold Christoffel up. She looked to the night elf nurse who briefly met her gaze but turned and ran back inside. Shandori felt her heart sink as a small stream of black blood started trickling from the corner of Christoffel's cracked lips. Maiev found her mind quickly racing and in the split second it took her to make a decision in battle, she stood between Daggerfang and his certain death.

"My lady, I do not know what the scoundrel has done to you but the blood elf needs help. The forsaken poisoned him and we fear he doesn't have long to live. You may slaughter this pathetic dog later, if that is your prerogative. But we need to hurry if he is to live." Maiev reasoned, hands up and weapon safe at her hip. The snarling Eliza's pin-straight mane hair started to sink as she stood and spat. Her eyes met Maiev's own, questions answered in the stern and steadfast silver gaze.

"If a night elf elder such as yourself can speak for the blood elf then surly 'e is worth saving. As for YOU…" She motioned with her snout to the cowering rogue. "Stay the 'ell away from me." Eliza Sagepaw turned and quickly came to Christoffel's side, lifting him over her shoulder with ease. She called for her nurses. Though there were 10 on duty only two would rise to answer her call for such a patient. The young troll and matronly tauren helped prepare a bed and salves until the druid could fully determine the severity of his condition. Sagepaw requested that the group remain outside until nightfall, giving her and her team enough time to stabilize the elf as more black ooze dribbled from his mouth onto his chest. Daggerfang led the group to Nighthaven's only pub and proceeded to buy the first round.

"Least I can do for puttin ya all through that." Daggerfang sighed as he placed everyone's drinks of choice well within grabbing distance.

"What WAS that? I've never had so strong an instinct to flee in my life!" Meryld snorted as she took a swig of dwarven ale. Daggerfang looked to the floor for a moment, stomach turning a little before speaking.

"She's my ex wife."

"Wow, rough…no pun intended." Ima spoke and patted the worgen on the shoulder.

"Nah, she is a sweet 'eart. What 'appened was mostly my fault anyhow. Don't blame 'er a bit." He said as he downed a double shot of cheap whiskey, bottle waiting beside him for another tilt. Shandori silently sipped her stout, eyes burrowing into the table in front of her. The sounds around her seemed to grow fuzzy as her own thoughts began to break into jagged shards, cutting into her composure. She did her best to steady her beating heart. She knew by the lack of vocal concern from Ima that her state did not escape her tired mask.

"W-what happened, if you don't mind me askin?"

"Sorry gobby, maybe in a few drinks." Daggerfang said with a sad smile as he lifted another brimming shot glass. He downed the short with a snarling face and placed the empty glass on the table with a pop. "Our boy's in good 'ands though. If she wanted to spite me she never woulda taken 'im in, in the first place."

"Well I hate to seem insensitive but I did not like the looks those people were givin us. The sooner we get to my winter home the better."

"She's right. It wont be long until someone notifies the authorities and the sentinels are here, then we'll really be in trouble." Meryld nodded, pushing the thought of an inevitable ambush out of her mind. It was then that a great figure made himself known. The hooves that carried him seemed to rattle the floorboards.

"I'm sorry for eaves-dropping, but you have little to worry about."

"Potan!" Ima smiled as the sight of the feral druid filled their vision. She stood, and quickly gave the tauren a warm hug.

"Greeting, Imajin. You look well. I see your friend has gotten much better since last we met." Potan smiled to Shandori, no longer covered in painful fel burns, who responded with a polite nod.

"Wait, wait! What was that you were saying?" F-bomb asked with perked ears.

"If you are worried about either political faction sending agents to claim you here, there is no need. The guard is made up of all druids and that bond is stronger than any side. At most those who seek you would have to demand your extradition and that would give you all plenty of time to flee." Potan nodded.

"Still, it's my shit that got us in this mess, well mostly." Shandori looked to Meryld and F-bomb, mind quickly snapping back to the present. "Meryld, the sentinels don't know you're involved with me and F-bomb is easy enough to hide or disguise. The two of you should leave for the safe house as soon as you can. Make sure it's ready and actually safe. Daggerfang…" She turned and looked to the worgen who was preparing to take another shot. "It's up to you. As far as I'm concerned you don't owe anything anymore." She shrugged. Daggerfang responded by downing his next drink with a snort.

"We'll see…" he sniffed.

"Maiev, err…you uh, you just keep doing what you do." Shandori spoke with a slight tremor in her voice. Maiev merely looked to her with pale, thinking eyes. The group spent enough time in the pub for all their drinks to go bone dry. Meryld and F-bomb prepared to leave, offering hopes and prayers as they laced their walking boots. Potan offered to give those who remained a tour of Nighthaven, but only Imajin agreed. Daggerfang purchased another bottle of whiskey and curled up at the bar. Maiev decided to take her own path through town and disappeared into the shadows.

Shandori made her way to the hospital, though the sun was still shining through the thick leaves. She walked into the lobby to find the night elf nurse glaring at her from the counter. Shandori cast the girl a bemused look and took a seat in the waiting room. Hours passed and just as the sun cast its final rays through the open window, Sagepaw stood in the waiting room door. She coughed a little to remove the light slumber that had the night elf in its grip. At once Shandori was on her feet, eyes grasping for any clue to her companion's condition.

"How is he?"

"Come with me." Sagepaw turned and led Shandori through a small corridor. After taking a flight of steps, to the highest floor, they came to the room where Christoffel lay, resting. Shandori's heart sank at the sight of his pallid skin and sunken expression. It was as if someone took black ink and traced patches beneath his eyes.

"I take it you are not his next of kin?"

"N-No just…a friend."

"Right. Well, 'e's stable for now but it really depends on 'im. The poison was actually a form of the forsaken plague. The amount wasn't enough to melt 'im outright but it 'as caused a great deal of internal damage. It may sound crude, but you could literally suck 'is insides out with a straw."

"Thanks for that." Shandori snapped, but shook her head in apology. She took a seat in the small wooden chair beside his bed and folded her hands in her lap. "So that's it? We wait for him to die then?"

"Not quite. You see those nasty tumors? Well they sucked up a lot of the poison, which is great. The only issue now is removing them before they start growing into his ribcage. The veins have all but collapsed in them, which means there isn't much of a risk of blood loss from removal. But with the levels of poison in 'is blood there's no telling if 'e'll survive the procedure. My nurses and I will prepare daily potions and salves to try and shrink the tumors and cleanse the poison left in 'im before we attempt to remove them." Sagepaw spoke as she began grinding some plants in a small mortar and pestle.

"How long?"

"A week or two if 'e lasts that long." Sagepaw grunted, huffing a little on the crushed plant material. She poured the sour smelling oil into a vial as she prepared to grind a hunk of earthroot to add to the mix. Once done the fresh ointment was ready to be administered. She walked over to where Shandori sat and handed her the vial.

"If you want to 'elp 'im, spread that over the tumors. It's better with a less…rough 'and." Sagepaw snarled as she held up her rough and calloused paws. Shandori didn't ask why the druid couldn't just shift back into her human form, as glinting teeth and a foul mood kept her lips from moving. Shandori turned and moved the blanket covering Christoffel, exposing the open wound and hideous tumors.

"The black ooze is devoid of poison. It won't 'urt you. All that's left is in 'is blood." Sagepaw sighed, stony golden gaze falling upon the pair. She gave a nod and started towards the exit. "You may stay as necessary. I will ensure that you will not be disturbed. I 'ave other patients to see." She gave one last look before taking her leave. Shandori sighed and popped the stopper on the vial and poured the greasy contents onto the rogue's chest. He gave a sharp breath at the stinging sensation but Shandori's touch allowed him to exhale. He managed to open his eyes but his vision was still fuzzy.

"Hey there, sunshine." Shandori whispered as the smell of rotten flesh caused her nose to wrinkle. "Bleh, or should I say stinky."

"H-Hey." He rasped with a small smile. "What'dya think yer doing there, missy?"

"Rubbing oily crap on your gross chest, what's it look like?" She playfully jibbed, careful not to press too hard on the vein-ridden tumors that seemed ready to burst.

"Damn, gotta get hurt more often." He smirked, with a pained look following the action.

"Or not." She shook her head. "If I'm going to have my hands on you I'd rather them not be covered in yuck."

"If you play your cards right." He tried to laugh but the action caused him to wince.

"Shhh, you can talk dirty to me later. The druids say you're in the clear, so long as you relax and stay off your feet."

"Not what I heard, but thanks for trying." Chris sighed. He did his best to sit up but his attempt didn't even prompt Shandori to stop him. His vision started to clear, that was when he saw it. The first time it made an appearance, he thought it was his mind playing a trick on him but there it was. The look of vulnerability, of honest concern was there, plain as the scars on her face. Christoffel found it impossible to look away. Shandori looked to him with pleading eyes, that none, not even her own mother was privileged enough to see. She looked away but continued her work.

"You'll be alright. You were near dead when I first found you, you'll get through this. If you don't I'll-I'll reverse haunt you! Yeah, you'll be all one with the light and stuff and when you least expect it, BAM shield to the face." She gave a false laugh, eyes too engaging in their pearly sorrow. Christoffel felt a soothing warmth in his chest, far deeper than what the salve could reach. With all the strength he had, Christoffel lifted his hand and placed it on top of one covered in his suffering flesh. Christoffel managed to close his fingers around hers, which was just about the same size as his own. There were no words for the rest of the night, just quiet hopes and assurances as the moon hung in the window, keeping its silent watch in the cool but uncertain night.


	16. Flea 16: Dark Side of the Moon

**Straydog Saga**

Flea 16: Darkside of the Moon

* * *

Hanariel's breath caught in his throat. He stood there as if frozen. The chattering crowd walking about the upper trunk seemed to blur around him as a figure stood, conversing with her admirers. She turned, indigo hair slightly falling over her shoulder. The face in his branch-induced visions had only a few more wrinkles in his waking sight. The simple smile on her face caused a spark within in his chest. The red, clawing feeling began climbing its way into every sense. He could not control what had taken hold as old wounds met new outrages. His feet propelled him forward and with his single hand, Hanariel parted the crowd like a sharp sword. When he was within speaking distance, Iona Sagesmoke felt a hot whip against her face. Her eyes turned to meet unfamiliar blue orbs swirling with anger.

"H-How DARE you!" She spoke with a hollow threat in her trembling voice, hand reaching to cool the burning sensation on her cheek.

"Iona Sagesmoke…" Han spoke, voice trembling with pain and anger. The action caused a confused look to instantly spark in Iona's features. Those supplicants who worshiped their elder moved to strike back but something in the air seemed to slow their steps, if not their intent. The aura that surrounded the fuming high elf seemed to mirror in the branches that surrounded them. The white appendages quivered and shook with his anger.

"W-Who are you?"

"Though these girls worship you, do they know who you truly are, what you DID!" With the last word spoken, the small group of priestess cowered as a cracking sound came from the branches above. But the anger that broke like a tidal wave slowly receded and the branches slowly returned to their usual relaxed position. It was then Iona noticed small tears pooling in his eyes.

"What are you accusing me of, boy?" She sneered, eyes still wide from the audacity of the young priest. Hanariel couldn't speak, though his outrage was more than capable of answering.

"Time may bury your transgressions, priestess. But those who have been hurt by your carelessness will not stay out of sight simply because you want them to." Han gave a concluding nod and turned away. His feet carried him as quickly as a walking pace would allow. Iona was left trembling in the wake of Hanariel's fury. Her mind raced with the words, the power behind them and what truths they may carry. No soothing words from her younger colleagues could ebb the chill that lingered as dark memories began to surface despite her mind's willful plea.

Hanariel's mind seemed to spin. He couldn't remember a time he'd grown so cross, especially at someone he'd never technically met. He felt a wave of relief as he approached the portal to the lower trunk. As the energy transported him down, he felt the anger replaced with something else. A cool sadness flooded his features as he exited into the busy corridor. Nightlife in the lower trunk was always a colorful and noisy experience. Restaurants, shops, and other distractions often proved too much for those who thought themselves pillars of morality. It was a place that rarely saw the presence of holy folk after sunset. But Hanariel was quickly becoming a welcome oddity, receiving polite and often friendly hellos from those who dwelled there. But that night all the lights simply blurred around like ribbons. The people were out of focus and the sound was muffled. It wasn't until he felt the familiar hand of Keesha Hazzad grace his single shoulder did everything snap back into focus.

"H-Han? You ok?" She sounded out of breath. Hanariel turned and anything he was feeling sank into nothingness; the sight of each raw scrape, bruise, and vicious cut on Keesha's form pooled into genuine concern within the ailing priest. The look caused her smile with swollen lips.

"Don't look at me like that, Mr. Peach fuzz." She laughed, gently tugging on significantly more hair than when last they met. Hanariel reached to stop the action. "What's wrong, you look pale."

"Its not important, what happened to you?"

"…lessons ran a bit late tonight. I was on my way to pick up some bandages when I saw you stomping around."

"Bandages? You need to see a healer." Han insisted, but Keesha shook her head.

"I don't want to deal with them and I know it takes every bit of "charity" in their hearts to deal with me, especially this late at night."

"You could have found me."

"What do you think I just did?"

"Right, come on then." He sighed and guided her to one of the public sitting areas. She smiled as he concentrated and her wounds began to shrink and heal as if they were never inflicted upon her in the first place. "It would take less time of you swallow your pride and see a proper healer."

"Hey, you do a damn good job you know. I should have a lot more scars than I do…is something bothering you. I've never seen the king of calm so riled up." Her question made his shoulder tense. He tightly closed his eyes and when he opened them again Keesha could see the swirling sickness within.

"I slapped a woman I've never met before in the face."

"Whoa-hoho! Now that sounds like a story. When we're done lets head over to the ribs place and you can tell me all about it." Keesha spoke with renewed energy. Han shook his head.

"No, not there. I don't want people overhearing."

"Alright, have a better place in mind?" Keesha asked. Han thought for a moment as he began healing a particularly nasty slash on her outer thigh. She winced a little but like the rest of her wounds, Han's light-touch made it as if the mark was never there.

"It's cool out tonight. There wouldn't be too many people on the outer decks. If you don't have a warm cloak I can fetch you one of mine."

"The outer deck is fine, if we can still get service this time of night. And don't worry about it; I have a warm coat I can throw on. Why don't we get changed and meet at East Deck Star-Shine in 20 minutes? They have great sweets. I'm in the mood for some Star-Shine Pie." Keesha mused. Hanariel agreed and once warmer garb was donned the pair met at the sparsely populated East Deck. The winds whipped with a slight chill but they were warmly greeted, seated, and handed two menus. Keesha looked around at the few other patrons before leaning in and speaking with a strained hush.

"So, you slapped a bitch. Tell me all about that!" Keesha spoke with a glee-filled smile. Han's look grew stony which made her smile falter. One of the servers came and took their drink and food orders and when the young man was out of earshot Hanariel cleared his throat.

"You know my visions? The ones with "Tori" in them?" Han asked. He deliberately changed Shandori's name each time he spoke about his visions to protect the sanctity of her past.

"Yeah, you mentioned you'd been getting a lot of them lately."

"Well, I just slapped her mother in the face."

"Wh-what? No way! She works here? Why would you do that?" Keesha stammered, lowering her tone when Hanariel motioned for her to do so.

"She does, she's one of the priestesses in the upper bough. I was so shocked I didn't really realize what I was doing until after I did it. I'm sure I'll have a fun time explaining myself to Lady Whitedeer…"

"So why'd you slap her?" Keesha half asked, half demanded as she took a sip of her drink. With a long sigh and a heavy heart, Hanariel began to speak of his latest vision…

* * *

Hanariel found himself in a women's changing room. He felt a slight heat in his cheeks and though his eyes shot to the dirty floor, they occasionally rose to steal a quick image of a mostly nude Elvin form. The night elf students, covered in the day's toils changed out of their standard issue armor and into throw-away clothes until they were able to return to their barracks to bathe. Many traveled far from their homes in Darnassus to the school, which was built in the relatively safe eastern part of Ashenvale. The banter was mostly light, words about what they planned to do that evening and other girlish gossip. One of the girls, a tall silver-haired warrior he'd come to know as "Falina" cast one of her fellow students a childish sneer.

"You were a little slow out there during drills, Sagesmoke. I saw a freshman get a easy strike in on you."

"Can it, Catwhisper."

"I'm sorry, I don't speak dwarf." Falina snorted; the action earned her a few eye rolls and more than a few approving sniggers from the younger girls. Shandori put her head down as she pulled up her soft leather boots allowing her long indigo hair to cover her flushed cheeks. Hanariel frowned at the snide comments that were often spoken in whispers. Shandori was years older than the other girls, yet several stages behind in her progress and received ample comment from her peers. It was something the weak bodied and often feminine-seeming Hanariel also experienced in his youth but unlike Shandori he had four well-respected brothers and a prestigious father as his constant defense. Hanariel's attention shifted as another sentinel entered the room. The sight of her elaborate armor and wise face caused the group to stand at attention. Even the normally rebellious Shandori stood with only one boot on.

"At ease…" Shandris Feathermoon spoke with her usual even tone. But something in her eyes made the girls hesitate. She motioned for them to sit and they slowly complied. Shandris was conducting an inspection of several outposts near the Barrens border and decided to visit the campus and get to know her future fellow soldiers against the enemies of the Night Elves. The general who lead the school greeted her warmly and informed her of the day's tasks. One task on the list was marked in red and it was one no soldier, no matter how steadfast and brave, would choose over a battle with the enemy. When she read the name on the dreaded paper, Shandris insisted she carry out the duty and collected the items she would need. Shandris stepped into the room with two sentinels at her side. She made an attempt to speak but she could not find any easy words to soften what was to come. The air was eerily silent as she reached into her side bag, pulling out a few affects and a note. A few of the girls who sat closer to where Shandris stood gasped at the sight of the pure white paper with a single red ribbon adorning it. Shandris scanned it twice, and made sure the name on the paper was correct. The person attached to the name was one she knew and proudly fought with in her battles against the horde. She once thought him invincible but the broken necklace and bloodstained relic in her hand told a different tale. Shandris had met the young daughter of her fallen friend many times, and knew her face well. She looked to the group, doing her best to remain calm and steady. Some of the girls felt their blood freeze in their bodies; others thought their hearts would leap from their mouths. Hanariel felt his own heart sink when Shandris took a step forward. The sound of each footstep added to the tension as the girls started moving out of her path, hoping and some even praying that the letter was not meant for them. She stopped in front of two girls, each leaning away. Shandris slowly extended the letter, which bore the name of Shandori's beloved father.

"I'm so sorry." Shandris whispered. Shandori took the note and shook her head, tears of denial flooding her vision as the eloquently inked letter stung her already fragile heart. She moved a hand to push the note away but the reality of what had happened would not be tossed aside. She uttered weak "no's" and closed her eyes. Perhaps when she opened them she'd be in her bed, her father scolding her for sleeping in. She could no longer hold back the choked sob as Shandris pulled her in for a hug. Hanariel took a step closer to the crying elf but felt himself pulled away. He barely had time to digest what he had just seen when the world around him went gray again but the sound of shouting quickly ushered him into another place. This time it was a lavishly decorated villa. The room was adored with the affects common to someone of Iona Sagesmoke's station. Hanariel saw Shandori, a look of utter disgust on her face, and Iona dressed in her finest traveling clothes.

"This is not up for discussion." Iona sighed, placing several salves and remedies in her medicine bag. Shandori's look barely scrapped the surface of the fuming rage within.

"It's the last thing you can do for him and you're leaving? You can't delay your trip just one day?" Shandori demanded, knowing that in one day's time she would be saying her final goodbye to her father's corpse.

"I'm needed in Icecrown. He would have understood." Iona coolly spoke. All emotion she may have been feeling was well hidden behind a mask of indifference. Hanariel was not quick to judge the action as Shandori did. He himself did not shed a single tear at his father's funeral, nor did others see him with anything but a pleasant smile in the days after he learned of his brothers' grim ends. But in his private moments he did find himself in the arms of grief.

"Of course he would have, he always put us first. For once, FOR ONCE, put us first too." Shandori half yelled half pleaded. Iona cast a snide, nearly scolding look.

"Selfish as ever, aren't we? Why are you, the high and mighty dropout lecturing me? Your sister is-"

"Elunis is here. She arrived yesterday or were you too busy with your own life to notice." Shandori interrupted. Hanariel winced at Iona's blatant jab. He pleaded, though in vein, for Iona to seize the opportunity she had to end the argument and try to make her hurting daughter understand. But instead, the wise words went unheard. No mothering words left her poisonous lips.

"Elunis is a fine druid. And since it was one of her own, let alone her father, that died she was more than likely granted a reprieve. I was not. You would understand all this if you actually made something of yourself." Iona coldly spoke. The icy tone only served to embolden the fire within Shandori as words blasted from her heat filled cheeks.

"This is just like you! Father loved me no matter what. He always told me I'd find my own path in life and never gave up on me. You, YOU dropped the mommy act as soon as they told you I wasn't cut out to be what you wanted me to be. Funny how our dinner dates and outings just sort of fell off or were you just too embarrassed to show me off anymore, like an old pet!" Shandori raged. Hanariel pleaded, as if his words might get through to the mother with lightning behind her eyes. Shandori's words were obviously more filled with pain than malice. She appeared to be the lost child in desperate need of a mother's guidance. But the past recorded could not be swayed by his noble intent and what happened next nearly caused his heart to stop. With a hateful sneer Iona delivered a crushing blow.

"Such strong words in the name of a man whose blood doesn't even run in your veins." The words seemed unreal. Shandori was taken off guard, mouth unable to form a response. "You've been a thorn in my side since birth. And while I tried to mold you into something more than a hapless accident, the ignorant fool coddled you. He made you into a lazy, self-content little idiot with no want to improve or become more than the nothing you've become. I have sacrificed much for you, Shandori. And you could not bear to see my own grief, my suffering in all this? There is a lot you don't know about the man that raised you but since you don't believe a word that comes from my mouth, ask your sister. She speaks no lies." Iona hissed. Hanariel stood, horrified at what had just transpired. He felt whatever understanding and compassion for Iona's position drain from his heart. Whether true or false the statements were meant as a fine crafted arrow, to destroy her own flesh. Shandori broke out of the stupor long enough to grab one of Iona's prized porcelain statues of Elune and throw it at her mother's head. Iona quickly ducked, wincing as the stature hit the wall with a chink and shattered on the floor. There were no words after that, just the fury of Shandori's rock hard fists striking her mother's dignified form. The priestess did not have time to react, barely getting her hands up in time to shield her face from the tidal assault.

When Shandori's rage abated, the teary-eyed daughter stood with blood on her knuckles. She stole her mother's medicine bag along with several bags of money and fled into the woods without a path before her. Hanariel wanted to run after her, to speak soothing words of comfort but something made him stay. The scene that he was to witness in the bedroom was still to come. He looked to the bruised and bloodied priestess with nothing but contempt in his heart. His memories and experiences with his youngest brother, Narlyn, and the tragedy that was his brief life clawed away any priestly bond for the woman. It was not long after Iona's beating did her younger daughter and her husband arrive at the home, to find her lying there, battered and crying.

"M-Mother? By Elune what happened?" Elunis asked as her husband, Morion helped the elder to her feet. Hanriel's anger and revulsion grew with every word that came from Iona's mouth. As Iona spun her tale, her children seemed caught in the fabric. Her retelling of the tale was surely based on truth but several key details were omitted. No mention of her vicious attack came, only the hint of an argument and an unstable girl's wrath. Honest looks of horror and dismay came to her daughter and son-in-law's faces. Morion shook his head.

"She can't be allowed to get away with hurting you like this. Especially with all that's happened. I will retrieve her!" Morion declared as he left to retrieve his trusty saber, Babygirl, and begin his hunt. Elunis stayed with her mother, face so confused and lost over the situation that her eyes seemed to grasp for any reason her sister would hurt their own mother. Hanariel found himself shouting at the girl but once again the vision began to fade. The gray world gave way to the real one and Hanariel did not find himself surprised to find a streaming wetness on his cheeks.

* * *

"Wow, what a bitch. Let me know what she looks like so I can slap 'er too." Keesha rolled her eyes as she took a savored bite of her favorite Star-Sine pie. Her keen brown eyes picked up something unspoken as she hastened to swallow. "But something tells me there's more to this than that. Anything you need to talk about?" Keesha offered. Hanariel could not meet her gaze but gave a little sigh before responding.

"I should not have struck her as I did because I let my own experiences color my judgment."

"Well you're alive. Stuff affects you. How could you not? Maybe it's 'the fates' way of making she gets hers, or something." Keesha smiled when her words brought his eyes up from the floor and to her own.

"I hope that's what it is. I sort of feel bad about not feeling worse about it, if that makes sense. It's just…I just lost it when I saw her act that way to her own child. I don't know if what she said was true or not but either way it was down right malicious and cruel. I've seen similar things happen before in my own family and it…" Hanariel couldn't finish the sentence. Bile in his throat and a choking feeling overtook any more words. Keesha was more than eager to fill the silence.

"People are cruel. I've seen things that'd turn your hair white. But you should feel any guilt over what you did. No one is really innocent. And if Whitedeer says anything to you, tell her what you told me. I'm sure she'd understand if she's as wise as you say she is." Keesha soothed, taking another bite of pie. Han picked up the complimentary second fork that came with Keesha's order and twirled it a little in his fingers.

"I just hope wherever Tori is, she's ok…I just wish I could see her, talk to her. Tell her that she IS what her father told her she is." Han sighed, reaching for Keesha's plate. He took a small corner, with a bit more crust than actual pie. "And I hope I never see that woman again…" Han popped the small piece of pie in his mouth and couldn't help but smile. "Its good."

"Told you. And hey, if being up there with the stuffies gets to be too much just come down here…I like it better in the trunk anyway. The roots can get a bit too dark at times."

"Oh?" Han asked, ears and curiosity perking up. Keesha shook her head.

"It's just really cold and dank down there. Everyone's mood is about the same. It's nice getting a break from that once in a while or twice in a while if I can."

"Yes, it's really the only place we can meet. It's a shame, I'd like to visit the roots sometime and I'm sure you'd love the branches, if you can ignore the people among them long enough." Han smiled and reached for another bite of pie. Keesha smirked.

"That could be fun. I could sneak you down there one day after lessons. From what I can tell Nightgaze goes into his room and locks himself in there 'til morning. He'd never know." Keesha whispered. Han smiled at the mischievous look on the warlock's face. She didn't seem too worried about jeopardizing her lessons despite the enhancements she'd made in the strength of her spells. Han leaned in a bit to reply.

"I'm afraid it would be more complicated to get you to the bough. Lady Whitedeer does night rounds every evening. But she's rarely ever off schedule. I'm sure we can pace ourselves to be where she isn't." Han nodded.

"Alright then. Meet me here at sunset tomorrow. We'll do the roots first and we can hit the bough afterwards, sound good?" Keesha offered, moving the plate with one last bite of delicious pie to her table-mate. Han scooped up the morsel without hesitation and devoured it.

"Sounds wonderful."

* * *

"An interesting development…" Orifiel smiled and handed her lover a glass of wine. "I'll have to skip my rounds that day, give them a bit more time up there."

"Do you suppose we should wrap up their lessons?" Seth mused aloud, taking the glass and enjoying a fine taste of red liquid. Orifiel shook her head.

"Not yet. They still have a lot to learn." Orifiel answered, taking a seat beside the highborn and resting her head on his shoulder. "But I think we have reason to be optimistic." She smiled moving her glass to gently clink against his. Seth moved his glass to bridge the gap before taking another sip.

"That is good. What about the shamans? Are they progressing on schedule?"

"Yes, I can not BELIEVE they sent Thrall, THE Thrall to help us." Orifiel blushed, and did her best not to giggle and kick her feet. Seth rolled his eyes.

"Fangirl…"

"Oh I am not! Thrall's just that awesome. And with his help we'll be done here in no time. No more hiding, no more sneaking." Orifiel sighed, checking the time. "Damn, I've got 10 minutes until I have to get back to my rounds…"

"Well then, let's make it count." Seth declared, putting down his wine glass in favor of something far more satisfying.


	17. Flea 17: Pulp Diction

**Straydog Saga**

Flea 17: Pulp Diction

* * *

"What is it?" The human teen, whose youthful accent spoke of his Gilnean origin, marveled with bright brown eyes at the sight of the beautiful corpse. The young salesman, along with a Stormwind-born priest and dwarf tradesman, was traveling from Winterspring to the marvelous mystic tree off Azshara's tumultuous coast. Though the landscape often caused muttering prayers to leave the priest's lips their trek was uneventful at most. When they reached a small rise in the landscape, the travelers were lured from the safety of the well traveled road by a trail of gromsblood leading into a small valley. It was in mid pluck, when the group stumbled upon the body. The priest, dressed in bright red vestments, tucked the precious plants into his bag before leaning forward and wrinkled his nose at the smell.

"Its life Jim but not as we know it. Best leave her alone and move on…" The priest mused, taking a step back. The curious youngster leaned in to study the corpse's features. She was a beauty to behold, or at least she would have been in life. She only vaguely resembled the monsters that sometimes haunted Jim's youthful dreams but only due to the fact that she appeared dead and not in a coffin where she surely belonged. No bird hungered for her eyes or tongue. No ravenous animal came for her innards. The horrible injuries to her hands and throat would have contributed to or been a result of the fall, the priest surmised. The splattered pool of black blood beneath her seemed to act like a blanket on the cool ground. The dwarf, who Jim knew as 'McGowan', muttered something about letting no treasure remain buried with the beauty. He began rummaging through her pockets. In his work he did not notice the slight twitch in her shattered fingers. The sound of snapping and cracking bone did not seem to get his attention. Just as McGowan's grubby fingers found gold, a swift hand clamped down on the tradesman's throat. His eyes went wide in horror as the vibrant red glow returned to the corpse's now seeing orbs. Jim staggered back as the priest began to pray. The small trinkets, roused by the dwarf's touch managed to repair most of her injuries, save one. Highraven stood and found she still could not speak. With a gurgling hiss she threw the solidly built dwarf to the trees, managing to strike the priest square in the neck, snapping his head back. The pair toppled to the ground, leaving a shaking boy to cower behind a bush. Highraven grunted and looked around a moment before staggering towards the south. When Jim could not find her stench on the air, he ran from his hiding place to meet his traveling companions. Jim found the priest, lying still against a tree with the dwarf sitting beside him.

"I-Is he knocked out?" Jim asked with a slightly cracking voice. The tradesman looked to him and shook his head.

"It's worse than that, he's dead Jim…" McGowan informed, as he closed the red-dressed priest's eyes. Jim, shaking, looked around the forest as the light around them seemed to disappear. The pair carried their fallen companion towards the northern outpost, steps haunted by the black blood and lingering images of the fallen ranger.

* * *

The full moon gave a small glimmer of light through the night-breezed leaves. Though Eliza Sagepaw wore the form of a human woman of middle age she could still smell more than what aromas the natural world could muster. She looked down with squinting, disgust filled brown eyes at the sight before her. Slumbering in the ditch was Daggerfang in his worgen form, a knife in one clawed hand and an empty whiskey bottle in the other. Her keen vision saw the bumps and bruises of a rough tossing and a tightly closed door just behind him.

"Why am I not surprised? WAKE UP!" She grumbled, nudging the snorting worgen with a less than gentle boot. Daggerfang snorted for a moment but began nuzzling the ground with a groan. Sagepaw crossed her arms and kicked harder earning her a yelp and a pair of open but bloodshot eyes.

"Whutizit?" Daggerfang rumbled as he lurched forward, but found himself unable to stand. He sat there, legs crossed, and yawned. His eyes seemed to beg that words he had not missed in his time married to the woman seemed ready to burst from her pursed lips. But nothing came to assault his ringing ears. Instead she offered the rogue a hand.

"Get up. We need to talk."

"Bout wha?" Daggerfang winced, not at the woman's touch but at the pain in his swimming head. Sagepaw quickly steadied him in a way she used to over 5 years prior, looking for any signs of alcohol poisoning. His bulkier physique seemed to aid in his processing of the two bottles of whiskey he downed, unlike his prior fur-less form. She led him to the hospital and helped him into a clean bed in one of her assigned rooms. He couldn't lie down due to the spinning feeling in his stomach but was fine to sit and lean against the wall. Sagepaw closed the door and sat at a small desk in the corner of the room.

"Didn't mean to drive you t'drink yourself sick…" Eliza sighed; opening a long drawer filled with vials and dried ingredients.

"Wit tha waaarm welcome earlier? You sure?" Daggerfang snorted, trying not to move his head too much.

"You think it's easy for me, you showing up out of the blue like that? I suppose you didn't 'ave a lotta choice with melty-chest upstairs but…" Eliza gave him a suspicious look. "Why are you looking after someone like 'im. He must mean something to ya to bring 'im my way." She shook her head as she began mixing a pain remedy. Daggerfang wanted to shake his head but did not.

"He busted me outta jail with the night elf girlie. I owed 'im." The words made Eliza snort as she began poring water into the medicinal powder.

"You, in jail? Na, never believe THAT story." She rolled her eyes with a sigh. There was a silence between them as Eliza passed her ex husband the vial. He sniffed it curiously and gave her a brief look, ears tilting back a little.

"Not poison is it?" A stern look was his answer as Daggerfang downed the contents of the vial in one gulp.

"How long will you be stayin' then?"

"Don't know. I don't owe the elf nothin' no more. I may 'ead back to Gilnaeas if I can." He shrugged. Eliza cringed at the mention of her birth city. She did her best to quell the fuzzy images sharpening in her mind. She quickly stood and moved to a small basin of water resting on one of the night stands beside the bed. She poured some of the cool water into two small cups. She took hers up leaving Daggerfang the option of lifting his own glass.

"Don't know how you can stomach that place now. Is the house still there?"

"Nah, long gone." Daggerfang sighed and took a quick swig of water. "But the pub's rebuilt. The little one on Grey Lane."

"I remember…does Fran still work there?"

"Franny? No. No, things didn't work out too well for 'er. 'eard from 'er dad she doesn't much come out of her room since things went wolfy." He sighed.

"Oh." Awkward silence filled the room like a brisk breeze. Eliza heard the bed creak a little as Daggerfang stood. He began walking to the door but stopped.

"Where's the Inn?" He cleared his throat. Eliza looked over her shoulder for a moment, eyes just barely capturing his form before replying.

"Three blocks from here, make a left at the exit. You can't miss it." She dryly informed. Daggerfang lingered there a moment before nodding. The swimming sensation in his head was nearly gone thanks to Eliza's potion.

"See you around then." Daggerfang walked with his large clawed hands in his pockets towards the door. His ears were perked for any call or gesture to make him stay but Eliza remained silent. He couldn't see her teeth gritting or her eyes going a slight tinge of gold as old memories began brewing in her mind. He left the hospital with a different sort of headache that evening, not staying around to watch the embattled Eliza transform into the worgen druid "Sagepaw." She growled and stormed off into the street, in the direction of her small dormitory. Her roommate, an elderly troll with short, gouging tusks, barely had time to move as the growling wolf- woman barreled through the narrow hallway to her bedroom. She slammed the door shut, knowing the polite elder would not disturb her in such a state and plopped in her soft bed. She glared at her humble pine-made desk with a sigh. She shook her head a moment before a shaking claw moved towards a dusty drawer. She opened it, eyes scanning the single, neglected object within. She reluctantly picked it up all rage growing cold into an icy sorrow. The cracked window bore a single image, long yellowed and stained. The image told the story of an often drunk but smiling husband with a hammer-strong arm around his common but comely wife. Her eyes were full of mischief and spark with loving hands on the shoulders of her only son. Sagepaw snarled and threw the image back into the drawer, slamming it shut. The sound of breaking glass and the echo of the closed drawer seemed to echo endlessly in Sagepaw's pointed ears as small tears began their slow journey to the billow beneath her.

* * *

"Oh Elune, this is epic." Shandori cackled. Christoffel grimaced as he desperately moved his face away from the tepid portage, laden spoon before him.

"G-Geh…tha shit…'way…from me!" He rasped. The druids in their skill and fleet-flowing magic managed to shrink the tumors on Christoffel's chest. They removed them without much damage to his chest although deep scars would forever mark his ordeal. Despite his major success, he was still far too weak to speak let alone lift a hand to feed himself. The honor and bland-oat filled bowl was placed in Shandori's lap. Her eyes glittered with delight as she circled the spoon around like a griffon, waiting to land on Christoffel's tightly closed perch.

"Oh come on, widdle Cwis. How are you gunna gwow big n stwong if you don't eat your yummy-nummy powage?" Shandori struggled to keep from laughing as she spoke.

"I'm…gon…kill you…" He weakly hissed as in his moment of weakness, Shandori's villainous spoon lunged forward and hit its mark. Christoffel resisted the urge to spit out the tepid mush while Shandori's hand ensured his lips stayed closed until he swallowed. With a small whimper he felt the oats slither down his throat and sink to the pit of his stomach.

"Was that so hard?"

"H-Hate…you."

"Yeah, yeah, I hate you too." Shandori rolled her eyes and placed the bowl on the side table. Her ears perked at the sound of padded paw-steps making their way to Christoffel's room. The paws stopped and in a rush of wind, a human woman appeared in the door frame. The serious look on Eliza's face seemed to deflate the lighthearted clouds that seemed to float about the room. Eliza pursed her lips as she walked over to there Christoffel lay. She looked to the pair and pulled some rolled up papers from her pocket.

"Seems you two 'ave a problem." She flatly spoke as she unrolled the pages to several wanted posters and held them so Chris and Shandori could both see. The charges were more severe than previously posted but the numbers and words had little impact on the night elf.

"Yeah, so? We have immunity here…don't we?" Shandori's brow furrowed a little as Eliza shrugged.

"Yeah, but the sentinels arrived this morning and it doesn't look like they want to go 'ome empty 'anded. Considering the severity of your crime, I don't doubt any of the druids who sympathize with the Alliance would care much if they dragged you out kicking'n screaming."

"So what, you wanna start something?" Shandori half asked, half accused. Eliza slowly shook her head.

"No, you 'elped my idiot ex 'usband out and 'e needs all the 'elp 'e can get. You'll be safe 'ere. But Lilliona don't like you much, so don't be surprised if the sentinels end up camping outside the 'ospital." Eliza informed.

"Lilli-who?"

"The night elf nurse you met when you got 'ere."

"Oh that scum bag. Yeah figures." Shandori crossed her arms. "Is there anyway we can sneak outta here once he's on his feet?"

"This isn't a castle. No secret exits or trap doors or nothing. 'onestly the reason they 'aven't stormed this place for your bones is because'a your 'orde friends. Since they claim you as such, you and the rest of the "traitors" are off limits." Eliza soothed as she poured Christoffel's medicine into a small cup. She helped Shandori lift Christoffel up and administer the medicine. The cool green liquid tasted of mint and cherry. Chris smiled and gave a weak laugh.

"S'better than…th'portage." For the first time since either of them had met the druid, the elves witnessed a small smile spreading through her thin pink lips.

"I'd like to see you do better with our budget. Ah, anyway rest up, the both'a you'll need it. I'll keep an eye on things and let you know if anything 'appens." Eliza said with a confirming nod. She bid them both a good afternoon and informed that she would be sending one of the nurses in with some tea and sandwiches at lunch, provided Christoffel had the strength to chew. Neither elf knew just how many sentinels awaited them once they stepped outside the hospital grounds but Shandori had no way of knowing that one in their number would stop at nothing to achieve her capture.

* * *

"Waaaa no wonder why you leaf-breathers love it here, this place is amazing!" Imagin half spoke, half sung as she spun around with her arms extended. Potan gave a twisted smile at the nickname and shook his head with a snort.

"Well if you magic-eaters took a moment to remove your tusks from your books, you'd see nature's wonder all around you, even in the most desolate of places." Potan chuckled. The pair started their tour of Moonglade with a humble meal of nuts, berries, and an enriched salad. They visited the great lake, and some of the shops around Nighthaven where Imajin was able to pick up a few items to use in her fetish making. They walked the paths leading to the shrine of Remulos, but Imajin shook her head when asked if she wanted to pay homage at the shrine. Her kind eyes and slight blush spoke to her respect of the scene, and how her arcane presence may upset some of the local dryads. Instead they traveled to some of the public and more secluded gardens where the sparkling flora dazzled in the low light. The hulking Tauren knelt in a meditative stance. The weather around them was perfectly calm and the sounds of the forest were like small, gently lullabies.

"Miss Imajin, do you mind terribly if I take some time to reflect…"

"Not at all, I brought a little sketchbook with me." Ima smiled and pulled the dusty paper book from her travel-purse. She knelt beside a patch of vibrantly speckled flowers and, with a small piece of charcoal that was tucked in the rope bindings of the book, began to record their likenesses. She felt her eyes dart from the spots and curves of their delicate petals to the page, her clumsy fingers doing their best to capture their majesty. She sighed a little in memory of her small but nimble gnomish hands. She could draw the most intricate designs with great speed. A pang struck deep within her at the approaching change of the season. Her new school term was approaching and without her disguise she knew she could never set foot inside one of the elite classrooms. What was only supposed to be a small summer job turned out to be far more of an adventure than she wanted. But the long blue appendages that were her current fingers crafted a fine likeness of the wind-dancing plants and if given the chance could weave the energies of the cosmos just as well. She smiled a little as the cool breeze seemed to make the petals flutter like butterfly wings. Ima found her head tilting at one, tiny little plant that seemed to continue its dance even as the air around them began to settle. With a raised brow and curious fingers, she reached out to touch one of the bright pink-speckled petals. Ima felt her heart leap when the little plant moved out of the way. The little creature shuttered and Ima could hear the faint sound of roots pulling themselves from the soil.

"What the?" She mused, causing one of Potan's long ears to twitch. When the little plant emerged, it seemed to peer up at the mage, and tilted the little bloom that seemed to act as a head a little to the side. "Hey there little fella…I wont hurt you." Ima softly spoke as she extended a hand. The little plant tilted its bloom downward and seemed to lick Ima's finger with a twirled purple pollen stalk. Ima resisted the urge to giggle as the cute action coupled with the tickly feeling shooting up her arm threatened to break what little concentration Potan still possessed. As the Tauren shifted to stand, the little plant crawled into Ima's palm. She lifted it closer to her face and proceeded to stroke the fragile petals with a gentle finger. Ima nearly let out a gleeful "eee!" as the little creature in her palm seemed to nuzzle her petting hand.

"You're so cute! I'm going to call you 'Herbert.'" She nodded a smug smile creeping onto her face from the witty idea.

"What is that you have there, Imajin?" Potan grunted as he knelt to see the tiny plant-ling twirling its rooty feet around Ima's fingers. His eyes seemed to widen in awe at the sight.

"His name's Herbert, at least I think it's a he…it is pink. What's wrong?"

"Imajin, do you know what that is?" Potan whispered, seemingly fearful of scaring the little creature away. Imajin shook her head. "It is Dryad's Delight."

"Silly Potan, Dryad's Delight is a blue flower with thorns and a really distinct smell. This little guy is some kind of lasher." She asserted. Potan shook his head, rings and beads in his long beard clicking. The sound made the little plant shutter.

"That IS Dryad's Delight, a juvenile. As it grows its petals will turn violet then blue. Thorns will grow after that and when its ready to pollinate it will produce the cylix that creates that smell." Potan informed, lessons he thought would never be of any use proving their worth in that moment. Ima slowly shook her head and looked to the little creature dancing about in her hand. While it did have many characteristics of the common lasher, the shape and patterns on its petals were quite different. They did match the patterns on the plant she still needed to complete her disguise. Ima shook her head in denial but a very faint smell coming from the charming little plant confirmed the icy feeling in her chest. She felt as if a heavy cloud hung over her hung shoulders as the adorable little plant danced about her palm.

"Oh no."

"What is wrong, Imajin, was this not the plant you needed to cultivate? We could really use its seed to ensure a greater population when it matures…" Potan stopped his thought when two angry red eyes met his. Imajin clutched the plant to her bosom, and it seemed all too glad to extend its little leaves in a hugging motion.

"But if we take the seeds out he'll die."

"That is true, but they can be extracted after the plant dies on it own as well. We need not take them now, they would not be viable." Potan nodded. Something in Ima's eyes seemed saddened by the thought of the adorable Herbert meeting his end in a matter of weeks.

"Still, I can see why they call them Dryad's Delight, he's so delightful." Ima smiled, placing the tiny plant on her thick shoulder. Despite the hardship it took to bring her to the sacred grove, the shimmering plant that moved to tickle her cheek seemed to make all the dark events fade forever into memory.

* * *

"So then he says ta me 'Did you see a sign outside that said DEAD NAGA STORAGE?' if he didn't have a boomstick to my throat, I mighta burst out laughin." F-Bomb laughed. Meryld found a booming sound escaping her throat as well. Despite the gloom that seemed to follow the pair from Nighthaven, the pair found they both had many entertaining adventures to share. Thoughts of the injured blood elf seemed to leave all together as they were welcomed by the sighs and lingering smells of the Timbermaw Hold.

"Why did you and your brother take the dead naga with you anyhow?" Meryld asked, wiping a small tear from her wrinkled eyelid.

"Sometimes they have magical stuff in them, good for potions, spells, we figured we could get a good price but the bastard was clean. I dunno if my pal was more bothered by the stains on his rug or the fact that he couldn't make any money off it." F-Bomb shrugged. The pair reached the Timbermaw tunnel to an amicable welcome. Several furbolgs, who saw the pair carting around a gravely ill elf only a day or so before, offered their prayers and any goods they might need on their trip north. F-bomb took the time to speak with each of the ursine people, further strengthening her renown and reputation among their numbers. They were given gifts of cloth, feathers, and fresh fruit. Meryld couldn't help but smile as the bite of apple yielded so much sweet juice a small amount of it dripped off her chin. She used her sleeve to remove the wetness from her face only to have the aroma linger on her dirty shirt. As they approached the exit tunnel leading to the snowy valley of Winterspring the sound of a strong pair of hooves approached from behind. They turned, as a meek voice met their ears, to see the vision of a young, doe-eyed draenei girl with a demure expression standing behind them.

"Yeah, whaddaya want?" F-bomb asked, her words causing the pig-tailed girl to slightly blush.

"You are a-adventurers, yes?"

"You could say that, why?" Meryld asked, straightening her belt. The girl seemed to lightly bite on her lower lip with her top teeth.

"W-Well, are you headed to Winterspring city?"

"Yeah…" F-Bomb crossed her arms and gave a side glance to the elder, human-looking woman beside her.

"C-Could I come with you? My brother and his friend are waiting for me there but I got a bit turned around in the tunnel and I'm unsure of where to go. They can pay you when we get there, I don't have much money…" F-Bomb shook her hear though Meryld appeared to consider it. The darling face appeared to be very new, very bright, not yet torn down by the trials of life. But F-bomb tugged on her shirt tails and motioned for her to bend down. When Meryld's ear was in whisper range, F-bomb began hissing her words.

"We don't got time for this. We need to get the hell outta here before someone comes looking. She'd slow us down."

"Oh come on, she's just a girl…"

"Yeah, so how does a girl like that get passage through the hold if she's never been in it before? Something's fishy about that." F-bomb asserted, giving a suspicious glance over her shoulder.

"P-Please I won't be any trouble. I don't have much, so I can run far. Its night and I do not know my way and the furbolgs will not help me…" She pleaded eyes bright and scanning for any hint of compassion. She found it breaking through the wrinkled smile on Meryld's face.

"You can come along, but don't make any trouble." She said with an almost mothering tone. F-bomb's shoulders and nose went up. "What's your name, missy?" Meryld asked as the three felt the fresh winter snow meet their feet.

"Thank you so much for the help. I'm Pashima, it's so nice to meet you both!" Pashima happily skipped, hooves clopping on the path.

"Be careful, there could be ice." Meryld called, but the wisdom fell on cheerfully deaf ears. F-bomb scowled and crossed her arms, casting Meryld an angry look.

"This is gunna be a LONG trip…"


	18. Flea 18: The Midnight Tree Growing

**Straydog Saga**

Flea 18: The Midnight Tree Growing Anywhere

* * *

Hanariel's visions had shifted in recent days. The visions of Shandori had stopped all together since the ones that caused him to slap Iona Sagesmoke, forever marked his mind. Despite his familiarity of the scene, he felt his heart longing for new territory and pain that was not his own. He asked "why" over and over as the sight of an awkward youth came shuffling out of his favorite library. Silvermoon was quiet. The only buildings that were even open before 11:00am on a Sunday were the few early-bird eateries and libraries. He saw his former self nearly stumble on an uneven crack in the stone walkway, which would surely be fixed sometime that afternoon. The clumsy younger Hanariel managed to steady himself as a few books from the stack he carried found their way to the ground. Though he had not aged much since the time of the memory, he looked thinner, frailer than he had become since his meditations at Mydrassil. When young Hanariel reached down to pick them up, a few more fell from the top. Young Hanariel blushed a little when he realized there was another pair of hands helping him control the shifting stack. The beautiful, well manicured hands belonged to one of the young women who worked at the library. He often stole glances of the blonde-haired beauty but never had many chances to speak. She smiled with glossy lips at the titles that adored the dusty old tomes.

"Training in the ways of the light are you?" Her voice made his throat collapse. He fought against the heat that spread all over his body and thanked whatever gods would listen that the stack in his arms allowed some coverage of a certain area below his waste.

"Y-Yes. W-Well just doing some light reading, heh." He managed to squeak. The sound of his clearing throat and the sight of his trembling hands made her smile widen.

"How interesting…" She sweetly spoke. "I've always been interested in studying the light but I come from a long line of librarians, you know."

"Uh, huh…"

"I mean it's not glamorous or anything but someone needs to do it."

"Uh huh." Younger Hanariel's mind seemed broken. No thoughts or words seemed to dwell in him. It took all of his current will power not to drool at the sight of the thin beauty.

"Well I best be going, be sure to bring those back when you're done, alright?"

"Uh y-yeah…"

"I'll see you then." She devilishly smirked, planning a quick kiss on his violently red cheek before shuffling back into the building. Young Han looked like he was about to take off like a volatile goblin rocket. The present Hanariel scowled as the scene around him began to drain. Unlike the other visions he was at the helm.

"ENOUGH, I don't want to see this!" Hanariel shouted, mentally forcing the branches from his mind and body. In a matter of moments the vision was gone and he was sitting in his safe room, surrounded by warm sunlight and a placid forest that resembled Eversong. He did his best to calm the thunderous beating in his chest as a few branches still slithered at his feet. His brow furrowed as sweat dripped onto his thick blond beard. "Why did you have to show me that now, why today?" He panted as the twisting branches offered no response. He stormed from the safe room and into the winding paths in the upper bough. In his sickened state he almost bumped into a school teacher as she led her children from a trip to the lower trunk back to the nursery. He paused, brought himself fully into the present and profusely apologized. It was then a familiar small voice called from the gaggle of school children.

"Han! Han!" Inge shouted, waving her hand as if he could somehow not see her, the only human among the small class of elf, Tauren, and gnome children. The school teacher accepted the priest's apology before turning to encourage her most verbally challenged student to continue her thought.

"Hello Inge, I haven't seen you in a while." Hanariel gave a bright smile that made the little one giggle.

"What do you say to the nice man, Inge? You say…"

"H-Hello Han! How. Are. You?" The action caused a good deal of praise to burst from the elder woman's lips as Inge did a little dance in celebration. Hanariel offered to help escort the children to the nursery as a few bold-minded younglings decided the interruption would be a great opportunity to wander off. Han grasped little Inge's hand as he continued to encourage her to speak, earning him any grateful glances from the other adult. She went from expressing herself in grunts and the occasional piece of a word to telling Hanariel about her favorite color (pink), animals (cats and butterflies), and foods (candy and cake). She even managed to form a few simple but inquisitive sentences. He was more than happy to listen and tell her all about whatever she wanted to know. When the group reached the classroom, Inge's hand seemed forever glued to his own. But after some coaxing and promises to visit were given, Hanariel bid the energetic youngsters a good day and found the dreadful reaction to his vision slowly returning. He found himself taking the portal to the lower trunk several hours early in hopes that the bawdy people of the common wood might distract him long enough to let his mind forget about something he never wished to see again.

* * *

Keesha's abilities were growing stronger by the day. But no matter how powerful her shadow spells and arcane attacks became, the vicious roots seemed to keep pace. Archmage Nightgaze had grown busy in the past few days, leaving her in peace to conduct her own lessons. The thought seemed to bring an approving smile to the mage's bearded face and Keesha welcomed the lonesome concentration. At first she seemed to cull the gouging roots with little effort but as they came together in greater numbers, Keesha felt her breath begin to pound in her ears. The rumbling fog that hummed in her hearing did not slow her down too much but the occasional vicious scratch did make its way onto her person. With a constant yet growing volume, the brief flashes came with each painful strike. Weeks prior they had only been mildly annoying whispers, easily dismissed as the result of waning concentration. But as time went on the voices grew louder, with images flashing in the back of her mind. She did her best to avoid another terrible strike, her efforts to conquer the roots seeming no closer or further away than when she first started. She began to think, as she usually did when the sweat began to roll down her chest and back, about the puzzle presented by Nightgaze. Another root grazed her shoulder, with it the image of a young woman being slapped and called "worthless." She quickly moved out of the way and shook the image from her thoughts as she tried to focus on the puzzle.

"What tears apart a bright new start and pulls us to the lifeless dark?" She gasped, a large root nearly striking her in the stomach. She nimbly dodged it, and cast a fire spell far more potent than she thought would ever fly from her fingertips. "That haunts our steps with stark regrets, never missing the mark?" Another scathing twig struck the back of her calf, nearly tripping her. With it came a deep male voice that made her blood freeze. Another came and then another, stabbing her flesh like it were nothing but loose meat. As she furiously ripped the roots from her arm and hand, images of a dark rune, imbued with her own innocent blood began taking hold. "A-And from it flee, never do we, escape its senseless spark. But in the face of dim disgrace, one must find the start!" She cried as blood from the tears in her arm began to drip onto the floor. She could think of nothing else, not the images or the words as one great root bore down on her. She used every bit of strength to leap out of the way and ran to the door, slamming her first on the rune that controlled the opening and closing of the exit. The woven door began to spin into what resembled a part of the root-made wall. As the giant root slammed against the door, Keesha sank to her knees, blood and sweat dripping to the sandy floor. She clutched her shoulder, an alarming numbness growing in her hand.

"Keesha, are you alright?" A familiar voice asked. Keesha turned to see Trenton's color-drained face scanning her injuries.

"F-Fine, just." She flinched as a slight spasm went through her arm.

"I'm getting you to a healer. Up you go." Trenton asserted, leaving Keesha no time to protest. He helped her on to her feet and started heading in the direction of the portals.

"H-Haven't seen you around much."

"Lord Nightgaze…reassigned me. I just couldn't keep up with the root training. I'm sort of glad I couldn't." He remarked with a smirk. The humor was not lost on Keesha but the pain in her arm overtook any urge to smile.

"I'm starting to wonder about it myself." Keesha coughed. The pair made it to the healer's tier just in time for most of the feeling to drain from Keesha's fingers. She ignored the look of disapproval from the fair haired human priestess she half-heartedly healed the deep gashes and long scrapes. While feeling was restored to her extremity, welts remained where open wounds once bled. Keesha muttered her thanks and tossed a few silver pieces in a small donation jar and exited to find Trenton waiting for her.

"All better?"

"Somewhat…Han would have done a MUCH better job. You think for people with two hands for healing they'd be able to get it right." She sighed, trying to cover the marks with her short sleeve. Trenton shrugging and the pair started walking in the direction of the trade district.

"Yeah, they're not really very good at all but what can you do? It's the best that's available to people like us." He softly snorted. Keesha felt her smile fade a little.

"Maybe not. Like I said if Han were around he would have helped out."

"Meeeh Han this, Han that. You better be careful that Nightgaze doesn't find out you've been hanging out with him so much. People in the roots are starting to talk."

"Why is it any of their business?" Keesha scowled. She knew how Trenton and especially Lord Nightgaze felt about those of the light cloth. And months ago she would be among their most enthusiastic number. But time spent with the gentle priest coupled with the thought of being judged by those whom she barely spoke to let alone cared about made her tick in annoyance.

"I'm just saying be more slick about it. I mean I don't care who you sleep with, I just better get an invite when the two of you get bored." Trenton cackled as he narrowly missed getting punched in the head. He did not escape her claw like grasp however and could not help but laugh in pain as hard but not injuring punches struck his back and shoulder.

"Ow- Ow, take a joke!" He laughed as she finally relented. "Damn, defensive much?" Trenton asked, noting a slight blush on the warlock's face.

"So are you headed back down then?" Keesha asked, hoping to murder the subject completely and move on. Trenton nodded, citing that there were far too many judging eyes in the crowd that time of day. Keesha saw him to the portals but decided to stay in her favored spot. She started walking to one of the decks for a snack, occasionally rubbing her still sore arm. But a small smile formed as thoughts of her meeting later that evening. She was used to doing the wrong thing, to sneaking around for less savory reasons. But the thought of childishly breaking rules of little consequence made a part of her heart leap she didn't know still beat. The hours seemed to pass like a growing glacier. Each painful minute did not seem to erode her excitement. But when the time came, well after many had found comfort in their rooms for the evening, the pair met for their daring holiday.

"Is that you under all that blue, Han?" She smiled at the deep blue cloak that covered his form. He pulled back his deep-ocean colored hood with a smile.

"Well being a glowing beacon all the time isn't very good for this sort of thing. You look a little tired, are you alright?" He asked, noting the welts on her arm and slight bags under her eyes.

"I'm alright, let's get going. Roots first? Nightgaze should be in his chambers by now." She whispered. Hanariel nodded with a small smile and spark of excitement in his arcane-blue eyes. But a flash of worry overtook the glee as the elf assessed her attire.

"We should stop by your chambers before heading to the branches. It's cold up there, twice as cold as on the decks; you'll want your cloak."

"Nah, I'll be fine. It's been hot as hell all day." Keesha spoke and motioned for Han to follow. Her assessment of the weather was not mere bravado as many of the residents, even those who dwelled in the upper branches found themselves dressing a little lighter that day and well into the evening. The pair passed the portals to the roots, favoring a less direct route. The deeper they went, the darker their surroundings became. Keesha found the entrance that she and Trenton first took upon their arrival and a cool smile came to her face. She peeked her head in and squinted as if looking for something.

"Hey Han, your eyes are brighter than mine, can you see the switch?" Keesha whispered. Though the glasses-wearing elf could not see as well in normal circumstances, his arcane-glowing eyes did give him a slight advantage in darker places. He could see what looked like the opening to a wide tunnel. Leaves and small buds adorned its woven walls.

"I don't see…" Han's eyes went wide as he felt something strike his back. Loosing his balance he fell forward and slid on the wet root. He let out a shout as he went flying, face first, down the twisting slide of a tunnel. Keesha gave an amused cackle before leaping in herself. Han did his best to quiet himself but the wind at his face and the twisting turns turned the terror in his mind into delight. He knew they were supposed to be discrete but Hanariel found he could not control the energetic shouts that came from within. Some of the buds that lined the walls burst open into crystal –lights that hummed with arcane energy. But a jolt of fright wracked Hanariel as he felt his body leave the solid root, air cradling his spinning form for a few terrible moments before he reached the opposite end of the slide, landing on his rear feet first. When Keesha reached the gap she planted her feet on the end of the root and propelled herself into a somersault before landing just a few spaces behind him. Realizing that the end of the slide, which led to the main guard room full of alert water elementals, was approaching fast Keesha straightened up to shout.

"Han hard left, LEAN LEFT!" She shouted. Han, arm raised and smiling, complied. He rolled off of the main root to find himself being caught by flexible wooden arms. Each one slowly lowered him down to the next before gently dropping him onto a large pile of white and blue sand. His heart was racing as he struggled to slow his breathing. He looked beside him to find Keesha being deposited into the same sand pile. The dim blue light revealed her devious smile.

"Got'cha!" She giggled. Han looked away for a moment before turning back to her to reply.

"C-Can we do that again?" He quietly panted earning him a soft laugh and the shaking of Keesha's head.

"Maybe later, come on."

"Give me a moment."

"Come ooooon." Keesha playfully sighed and stood, offering the priest her hand. She grasped his single hand with both of hers and pretended to strain backwards to lift him to his feet. She helped Hanariel brush the wet sand from the back of his cloak and led him into a secluded hallway. "There isn't much to see just yet but people don't really go this way too often…lets see." Keesha stopped for a moment when they reached a fork in the hallways. She tapped her finger to her lip a moment before focusing her vision on the far right tunnel. "I think it's this way." She mused. It only took her a few moments to realize the winding hallway chosen was one the lead anywhere she had been before. While she did have extensive knowledge of the root system from her days and nights wandering the main halls, her memory of the lesser traveled paths was thin at best. The lights grew dimmer, the hall narrower and wet. Han twitched as annoying little drops of water tapped his hooded face.

"Are you sure this is the way?"

"It is, I think." She trailed off for a moment, nearly tripping over a hidden root. The action seemed to send a shock though the tangled hall, causing closed buds to burst open, flooding the narrow space with light. Keesha and Han felt themselves freeze, as two figures in the blinding hallway appeared just a few steps ahead of them.

"What the hell?" One voice hissed as he desperately clawed in the blinding light. He seemed to be reaching for something, striking spots on the woven wall.

"I've got it." A woman's voice sighed as her long, red-painted fingers gently pushed in a small, flower-shaped button. The lights dimmed to normal levels as the four struggled to adjust to the sharp changes. Keesha felt her tension drop at the sight of the dark haired teen standing before them.

"Trenton? What the hell are you doing here?" Keesha hissed with a quiet tone. The other woman, a human with jet back hair, dove white skin, and crimson lips, looked to the young man who's mind seemed to by flying as fast as the flash of light that assaulted them. Trenton's look of shock quickly turned to one of mock annoyance.

"What am I doing here? Trying to get laid, that's what. Go get yer own hide-y hole!" He spoke through a forced grin as he felt a pale hand caress his shoulder. Keesha knew the young woman, a human mage of noble blood named Roxanne. Despite her sinister appearance, she never seemed to have an ill word for Keesha or many at all. Hanariel felt a slight heat in his cheeks but could not help but smile for his fellow male.

"Whatever. I'm trying to find the water room. How do we get there from here?"

"Go BACK the way you came, through the eastern hall, up through the east stair, and it will be on the left. And for the Titan's sake stay the hell out of the main hall. There is an assembly there tonight." Trenton informed as the second pale hand reached for his hip. "Get going, will ya?" Keesha gave a reluctant nod of thanks before turning to lead Hanariel in the direction of the water room. When they were out of earshot, Roxanne gave a small laugh.

"That was some quick thinking. I'd hate to see you apply that fast brain in lessons, you might actually achieve something for once." Roxanne shook her head as Trenton turned to face her.

"My mother's mate did well in instructing me to watch over them. Imagine if they'd gone any deeper…"

"I'd prefer not to. Lord Nightgaze would have both our heads. But they should be out of trouble I'd think. You don't have to stalk them the rest of the night do you?"

"Apparently I must. But I might be persuaded to stick around a while if my quick thoughts impressed you so much." He bargained with a glint in his eye seemed far brighter than the illuminated hall. With a seductive smile she slowly moved her hand from his shoulder and pushed the flower shaped button. The lights slowly dimmed and with a slight effort from her magical fingers the gentle blue color that bathed them turned a deep, siren red. The last thing Trenton saw before the lights faded completely was a pair of soft crimson lips leaning in to his own.

* * *

Meanwhile Keesha and Han, through a few set backs and turn arounds, finally found themselves at the entrance of the water room. It looked like any other woven door, trickling with a constant stream of water and the occasional lichen forming on its wooden skin.

"There may be other people in here but when I come this late, I'm usually the only one there." She informed as she slowly touched the door control rune. Slowly the door began to unravel, revealing a dimly lit foyer. As Hanariel entered, he felt his heart leap. His mouth slightly opened in awe of the vast open space. The water room, held together by strong magic, was like a deep-sea aquarium without walls or boundaries. A sandy floor with a few colorful pillows was the only defining point in the infinite watery abyss. As Hanariel walked deeper into the magical room, he saw a school of colorful but unknown fish float by like deep-see clouds. Their electric skin illuminated the nightscape, revealing a host of kelp and other deep dwelling structures.

"Keesha, this is amazing!"

"I thought you'd like it. You're surrounded by the sea but its one of the few places down here that doesn't drip on you." She smirked. "I guess you could say it's my 'safe room.'" The smirk she wore faded slightly but no frown dared replace it. She watched as Hanariel moved to the very barrier that separated him from a watery deluge. He touched his single hand on the smooth surface to find no glass keeping the elements at bay. The surface was cool and wet. He could see small ripples forming around his fingers and in his inherent craving for arcane magic, found the magical room strangely dry.

"What kind of magic is this?"

"Elemental is my best guess. I never really bothered to ask, I just enjoy the view when there is one. I guess it'd be easier with those eyes of yours." She informed, taking a seat on one of the throw pillows, hugging one to her chest. Her human vision only saw the dark depths of the night-bathed sea, but Hanariel's eyes captured a plethora of strange creatures floating about their business.

"It's a good thing you didn't show me this sooner, I'd never get anything done." He said with a slight laugh.

"Well I'm glad you like it. Now that I know the back way I can probably sneak you in again."

"N-No, you shouldn't. If we get caught your teacher will be very angry I'm sure." Han cast a concerned gaze to Keesha but all her perception could capture was a slight childish disappointment behind Han's words. She closed her eyes and shook her head with a wide smile.

"It's ok I'd rather be in here with…someone to talk to instead of lessons anyway." Keesha choked on the words that nearly stumbled from her lips. She felt a wave of relief as Han's eyes once again became transfixed on the teeming ocean, the adult reduced to child-like awe hoping to catch a glimpse of his favorite sea dweller: a whale shark. The heat had returned to her cheeks and she was certain they were growing flushed. A crowd of thoughts flooded her mind but none escaped into the cool air between them. Her deft mind managed to flee to another subject. "You like the ocean?"

"Love it. My elder brother and I used to go fishing all the time back home. We'd catch sunfish in the morning and eat it for supper. My mother made the best seasoned sunfish you ever tasted…" He spoke, enthusiasm slowly receding like a low tide. He could feel his memories creeping up on him. Times filled with warm sunny days running to the shore, his brothers always managing to beat him to the best fishing spots. He cringed, an action not gone unnoticed by a pair of warm brown eyes.

"I miss my mom's homemade whole grain bread myself. I haven't been able to eat it since…" Keesha fell silent. The loss shared between them seemed to crash into her. She always did her best to forget the things that always seemed to drag her down but the thought stayed, as did the images of the day she stopped being just another small town girl.

"Since?" Han turned for a moment, nearly doing a double take. Keesha seemed to stare, eyes wide and full of forming tears at something unseen. "Keesha, what's wrong?" Han's voice seemed distant in her ears. All she could hear were the screams, the desperate pleas before the sound of crushing skulls and gurgling throats. She felt a hand on her root- scrapped shoulder and shrieked, the image of one of Arthas' Elvin allies slowly fading back to the present. A sort of current seemed to burrow through her as the image of Han standing beside her with a strange look of shock and worry came into view. His eyes seemed to twitch as his mouth hung a little agape. She placed her trembling hand on his. The action broke the strange connection, snapping them both fully into the present. Hanariel gasped.

"Stratholme…" He spoke, seemingly out of breath. The blue-bannered streets and cobblestone pathways he had seen a few times in his youth were unmistakable. Keesha felt her heart drop.

"W-What?"

"What were you thinking about just now?" He asked, causing Keesha to cringe and look away. Han sat beside her and gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze. "Please tell me." He soothingly asked, doing his best to quiet his racing heart.

"You saw something didn't you?"

"I did, when I…" Han slightly shifted when he realized his hand was still resting on her shoulder. He quickly removed it and demurely placed it in his lap. "When I touched your shoulder, it was almost like my visions in the safe room but I didn't feel anything connect with me."

"W-What did you see?" Keesha looked to him, visibly shaken with her arms crossed.

"A very dark day." He shuttered as a small realization dawned on him. Keesha would have been alive then, a young woman at most. She ate simple meals of soups and breads in her human upbringing. She hadn't eaten whole grain bread since her mother's passing. "You were there, weren't you?"

"…yes."

"I'm so sorry."

"I survived didn't I?" She coldly spoke. All the warm friendly energy that surrounded the warlock seemed to evaporate. "What I don't get is how you were able to see that. Didn't know the branches went this deep." She gave him a sharp glare, mistrust rising up within. But not even the sternest look could persevere in his angelic, mournful gaze. She gave a heavy sigh and looked to the floor, Han unable to do much else but the same.

"I don't know either. Lately I've been able to interact more with the branches, drive them away if they get too intrusive but you know I'd never invade your privacy so brazenly. I-I'm sorry." He sighed. He could feel his form begin to tremble. His strange abilities and profound insecurities seemed to be crumbling the foundation of their friendship. He looked to her with pleading eyes for understanding, desperation and remorse as plain as the beard on his face. But something in him managed to overtake all of the fear that long dwelled in him long enough for Hanariel to utter "I wouldn't do anything to screw this up." He instantly wished to erase the sound as Keesha's vision slowly turned to rest on him. He looked away, no words coming to mind.

"Screw WHAT up exactly?" Keesha said, heart pounding in her ears. Despite the constant energetic thudding, she managed to keep her expression annoyed and accusatory.

"Uh, I mean-"

"What DO you mean?"

"I-I mean, us. Our friendship, it means a lot to me..." Han trailed off as Keesha began to giggle. At once, the web of tension that bound them seemed to be dismantled as Keesha pointed one finger out to poke Han's tomato-red cheek.

"Got you again." She smirked. But unlike the previous time, some retaliation came. With a devious smile, Han moved to unleash the most devastating wave or tickles his hand could muster. He lacked the strength to both pin her down and tickle the warlock but Keesha made no real attempt to escape. Only when his fingers grew tired did Han relent. Keesha grasped his hand with both of hers and moved it away as she attempted to catch her breath. A slight glance at his appendage made her eyes go wide.

"H-Han, your hand!" She gasped, quickly sitting up. She pulled his hand up for a moment so both could see the strange, golden rune that seemed to permeate to the bone. "Do you see that?"

"I-I do!" He marveled, seemingly as surprised to see the mark as she was. Before both their eyes, the golden eye pattern seemed to grow bolder as intricate patterns began to form down his hand and onto both sides of his forearm. Keesha pulled the long blue sleeve down to reveal more of the golden pattern forming.

"Does it hurt?" Keesha asked, the concern in her eyes causing a small but confident smile to appear on Han's face.

"I didn't even notice it until now. You're familiar with runes, what do you think it is?" Han asked, causing Keesha to focus on the patterns that seemed to stop at his elbow. She removed her glove and touched the surface of the glowing marks. Though their magical nature was evident, Keesha felt no power in them. There was no light or dark properties, no hint of arcane or fel interference.

"I've never seen anything like this. You said you saw my memory when you touched me, that's what probably triggered it. I'd say lay off the branches for a while." Keesha suggested, pulling Han's sleeve back down and into place.

"Speaking of…d-do you still want to visit the branches tonight? We don't have to take the whole tour but, there is something I'd like to show you. T-To make up for this."

"A-Alright, if you're sure you're ok." Han nodded and stood, offering his strangely marked hand to the warlock. The pair left the water room, continuing to forsake the main halls until they reached the portals to the upper trunk. Keesha peeked out into the main hall and when it appeared that no one was in sight they made their daring dash to the upper trunk. A short walk and another set of portals later they were in the upper bough. Unlike the roots, everything was crisp and illuminated. Light seemed to dimly resonate off the white-barked branches that were the walls. They walked as quickly and as quietly down the hall, towards the portals to the Pinnacle Bow. As the turned at a slight bend in the winding hall, Han stopped cold, sending Keesha crashing into his back. He shoved her back as gently as he could and placed his hand over her mouth. From around the corner Lady Whitedeer, rolling her eyes under her mask at the pair, walked past. Keesha and Han froze, holding their breath. But to their relief the steward of the tree didn't seem to notice their presence and even seemed to hasten her steps down the wide hallway. When at last she could no longer be seen Han removed his hand from Keesha's lips.

"That was close."

"How in the hell did she not see us?"

"Must be the mask, come on." Han implored. When they entered the portals to the highest point of the tree, Keesha felt all warmth escape her form. Despite the heavy heat that surrounded the roots and lower trunk the air in the high branches was icy. She felt a shiver run through her as a warm swath of blue fabric graced her shoulder.

"I told you it'd be cold." Han mock-scolded as he moved to undo the clasp on his cloak. Keesha stopped the action.

"I'm fine, Northrend was colder than this!" Keesha found herself shouting over the howling wind. Though it whipped through the branches, the sturdy limbs swayed very little.

"That it was." Han smiled and pointed to the sky. Keesha felt her mind go blank. Her eyes strained to take in the majesty that sparkled above her. She felt nothing but awe as she carefully moved further up the curved branches. The leaves seemed thinner where they stood, allowing them to view the spectacle unhindered. Far above the tree was an aurora made of arcane chaos. All colors graced the sky with their magical dance, allowing only the brightest stars to shine through the shroud. In its silent majesty, the sky beyond Mydrassil's reach seemed unaware of their wonder.

"Han this is…"

"Lady Whitedeer took me here the night we arrived. She thought it may be a nice place for nightly meditation if the wind decides to be calm or if the safe room proved too claustrophobic but I never really made use of it." Han saw the mood in Keesha shift again. No tears came to her eyes but the sorrow emanating from her was palpable. He lowered his voice and took a step closer to her. "Are you alright?"

"I am…I just wished I could have seen this before things went bad. Back when I was young and fresh and magic was something for rich folk to play with. I don't know I'm just having one of those nights I guess." She sighed and looked to her companion with a small smile. She was still a little shaken from what happened in the water room but something seemed to warm within her despite the icy wind whipping against her bare shoulders. Han shook his head and moved to drape some of the warm cloak over her form, careful to ensure his hand didn't rest any place Keesha would find objectionable and possibly curse-worthy. To his relief she moved to further cover herself in the flowing fabric, but the feeling was short-lived when she drew closer to him to do so. He did his best not to fall off the branch as blood rushed to his face itself and cleared his throat.

"F-For what it's worth, I find nothing about you old and rotten. You're far too pretty to say that about yourself." He near squeaked. Hanariel cursed himself in every language he could think of for his inability to sound like anything other than a pubescent boy when faced with such situations. His thoughts momentarily carried him to that horrible vision he's seen that morning. He did his best to shove the nightmare aside and focus on the woman beside him who gave him a soft expression he'd never seen from her before. It seemed a gentle combination of hope and disbelief.

"You think I'm 'pretty'?" she asked, seeming to expect some kind of punch line. He could see it, clear as day in her features. The wind seemed to hush, as if anticipating the answer. Hanariel felt his cheeks cool and his back straighten, if only just a little. He knew his next words could be damaging, they could cost him someone he truly valued. But he decided then that fear would not rule him any longer, the vision of his youthful folly lay vanquished in his mind.

"Keesha, men like me don't get to speak to woman half as beautiful as you. Why do you think I could barely look at you let along carry on a decent conversation when we first met?"

"Err—because I'm a warlock and holy people despise people like me?"

"No, it was because you hardly wore anything and you well—look the way you do. Look, I'm a priest, and an elf, yes but I'm a MALE first you know? And as Trenton so aptly put it, I'm not exactly what women look for in a mate. Why do you think I was so happy when this thing grew in." Han pointed to the beard that Keesha often liked to tug. "I thought, at most, I could only seek friendship with you because I didn't think you'd have any interest in me, that I wasn't worth your time or attention. Many women in my life have taught me that lesson. I even had one girl pretend to date me just so she could get close to my older brother. And for a long time I thought, yeah Han, don't bother. But the more time I spend with you the less I feel that way. I don't care about your race or your calling Keesha, but one thing you will not do is say such negative things about yourself again, not in front of me anyway. I'm sorry, I-I didn't mean this to turn into an ambush…" Han stumbled, his confidence loosing steam. He felt Keesha turn a little to face him, her long back hair brushing against his chest. She seemed to be chewing on the words, mind trying to interoperate the words be they palatable or sour. When she finally decided to swallow the meaning their eyes met.

"You really mean all that, don't you?"

"I do."

"It took a lot of guts to say all that."

"Trust me, I nearly soiled my dress." The two cracked up laughing, Keesha leaning forward to rest her forehead on his collarbone. Her arms moved, soft hands resting on his shoulder blades. She could hear what she thought was a heart beating in his chest, though the sound could be mistaken for a heard of stampeding horses. He had expressed himself haphazardly but honestly in her ears. If he was willing to travel outside the safety of friendship and risk the comfort it offered, she would at the very least meet him half way. She leaned up, slowly, and in a tender motion the pair felt lightning shoot through them through a long and gentle kiss. Keesha nearly smirked through the kiss as the normally timid priest moved to deepen it, an action she only encouraged with her traveling hands. When both needed air the wondrous sensation came to an end thought their faces still remained close.

"I need to try this bravery thing more often." Han laughed as the wind seemed to grow fiercely cold around them. As Han reached to brush some loose hair from Keesha's face the glowing runes seemed to spike in brightness. Keesha reached to comfort any pain caused by the strange runes but once again, Hanariel insisted he did not feel it. The only thing he could feel in the strange scene was the warmth within and the beating heart of the human woman he loved.


	19. Flea 19: The Bride With White Hair

**Straydog Saga**

Flea 19: The Bride with White Hair

* * *

Little white dots came from the gray clouds above. The crunching sound of plate and leather boots coupled with the occasional grumble from a tiger's furry mouth seemed to echo in the narrow pass. The wind would occasionally give comment, brushing on the sentinel's bodies like a crisp ribbon. The sentinels pulled finely-made violet hoods over their cold-breathing faces as the snow started to fall a little faster. In a matter of moments they could barely see the exit to the Timbermaw hold through the white torrent but knew it remained open as the group of 10 trained women waited. Their leader, a tall and muscular night elf, shifted a little on her mount. She moved to one of her riding bags and pulled out a small vial. She popped the stopper, moved the shroud that hid her shame from the world, and poured the soothing potion into her ravaged mouth. The surgeons and healers did what they could to fix the gaping wound and while they managed to save Falina Catwhisper's life the same could not be said for her face. Long, jagged scars marked the very place where Shandori's steel struck. The teeth that were knocked out were replaced by false implants, causing her gums to occasionally bleed. What was left of Falina's tongue caused her constant pain and became nearly unbearable when she attempted to speak. Despite her brother's plea and her doctor's advice, when Falina was off the stronger pain potions, she was back on the job. Another sentinel, who stood beside her leader, moved to whisper.

"We should take shelter soon. I feel a worse storm approaching." The sentinel, a violet haired woman with small scars beneath intricate facial tattoos, suggested. Falina shook her head with a grunt. She looked to see a young, noble face filled with concern and sighed. With much effort and with the pain potion taking affect she moved her nearly numb lips to speak.

"No, Natajha. We wait. They come." She spoke with a slight slur.

"How can you be so certain, mam?" Natajha asked, careful not to slip into the casual tone she was accustomed to when the pair was behind closed doors. The words made Falina snort.

"Good loyal people with open ears." Falina nodded. When her forces approached the regent lord of Nighthaven, they were met with far more resistance than the small group expected. Shandori's consorting with members of the Horde made a simple extradition far more muddied as the hoofed and tusked members of the druidic town constantly noted. But one proactive young nurse kept their agents informed and in her spying managed to capture the vital information necessary to facilitate the ambush. According to nurse, with the blood elf out of danger, the group would be traveling from Nighthaven that evening, hoping to get off the main road as quickly as possible. But the sentinels were ready for them at the only entrance into the wintry mountain range they would be able to take, considering Christoffel's still weak state. After a few moments shadows formed in the blanket of white. A kodo with an orc family in tow were traveling to Everlook. They carried no weapons, save for a gun in case of bandits or wolves, and nothing but fur coats to protect them from an over-zealous glaive. The father, a simple trader with only one language on his tongue, moved to stop their progression. The night elf force looked to their leader for guidance as the orc-mother held her young son to her breast with a snarl. Falina looking to the family, shook her head, and led her mount to the side of the road. The action earned a questioning look from her soldiers, but Falina's glare ensured no words of insubordination came. While the sentinels followed their leader, one quiet question filled Falina's ear. Natajha's confused eyes seemed slightly betrayed as the sight of the green-skinned family nearly turned her stomach.

"They are of no consequence. We are here to do justice, not slaughter unarmed families." She winced, reaching for another pain relief potion and waved the family on. The orc-father nodded in wary thanks as he quickly urged his pack kodo to move away from the scene. It would be a few hours before another would come walking down the road. Just as the sun began to sink, the figure approached. The armor she wore was dented and tarnished. Great ornate wings that adorned her shoulder plates were nothing but a memory. Her long, tattered green cloak moved by an artistic wind about her old but sturdy frame. Falina moved her cat around to approach the figure, whose own face was covered by a woven frond hat purchased in Nighthaven. The silent figure stopped its progression and stood motionless as the sound of a frightened gasp rung out from among the clutch of sentinels. One of the younger sentinels felt herself tremble at the sight of the familiar woman, who's roughly cut white hair hung loose beneath the shade of her hat. She ran to her leader's side, though breaking protocol with the action, and began frantically telling the account of when she was nearly slain by a mad woman wearing the exact same dilapidated attire during Shandori's escape.

"You there, is this true?" Falina asked. The air carried no response but silence to her long blue-violet ears. "I said is it true?"

"Answer her, hag!" Natajha demanded, temper flaring at the blatant act of disrespect. But the words only earned them a slight twitch in the stranger's black-painted lips. Falina dismounted and drew a long knife from the sheath at her side.

"We don't have time for this nonsense." Falina motioned for two of her sentinels to approach and apprehend the stranger on suspicion of aiding a known criminal. But as they drew near the felt their feet become frozen in the sight of the old woman's haunted vision. Falina, though stone faced, felt a slight shiver run through her.

"You little girls realize what you're doing is illegal. This is neutral land."

"We are not in Everlook; their laws do not apply here." Natajha spat back, glaive at the ready. "If you did aid the criminal Shandori Sagesmoke as our sister said then you are just as guilty of villainy as she is. Make your defense now or face justice." Natajha nearly shouted over the outraged wind. The words brought a slow rumble within the old woman's throat, and like a booming mountain, a bitter laugh erupted.

"Justice? Your kind doesn't know the meaning of the word." The old woman spoke, as a ribbon of wind threatened to knock the entire group over. She held strong. "Innocent blood still runs on the blades of your sisterhood, or did your elders strike that information from your school books?" The old woman hissed. The words caused the prickling sensation within Falina to explode into full on irritation.

"Enough!" Falina screamed, causing s small trickle of blood to creep down the side of her lip and a sharp pain to shoot through her scars. But the outrage that overcame her made the pain seem like nothing more than a pin prick. She charged the old woman who dodged the initial attack and, with her long circular glaive, mounted a counter attack. Falina's nine fellow sentinels joined in the fray but found themselves ill equipped to deal with the magnificently agile and powerful elder. Each jab, slash, and chop was deftly parried or avoided all together. The old woman moved with unnatural swiftness as one by one the younger, less experienced sentinels fell. The defeated sentinels still found themselves able to breathe but the pain the wracked their slender frames rendered them unable to carry on. Even Falina's great mount joined the fray, slashing at the old woman with its well-manicured claws. But it too met the ground with a bloodied snout, all too willing to escape the scene, leaving its rider to her fate. Soon it was just the panting Falina and stone faced former watcher still standing in the blood- spattered scene.

"W-Who are you?" Falina nearly choked on her own breath as another flurry of shining attacks burst forth from the old woman's shining circular weapon. Falina barely managed to block the assault but her steel held. She felt her leather treads slipping as her feet left a deep trench before her. Rage seemed to fill every feature in the old woman's face as her frond hat flew, abandoned to the snowy floor. That is when Falina saw it, a glint of pure rage and resounding darkness in the old woman's dimly lit eyes. The aura that surrounded the old woman glowed with unspeakable evil as an unseen hand seemed to coax the elder to speak.

"I am every innocent, just soul slaughtered for the greater good." Her voice seemed warped, unnatural. But Falina had no time to focus on the strange aura surrounding the old watcher with shining steel continuing in a seemingly endless assault. Soon Falina found her arms and lungs failing under the pressure and in one swift motion her sword was send flying into the deep snow. Her eyes darted to where it fell, flat, beneath the snowy carpet. Death stared her in the face, eyes devoid of compassion or mortal goodness. Just as the circular weapon was about to come down, a voice flowed into the scene, halting what would have been a final strike.

"Ms. Maiev?" The voice of Ima came, as a small group of travelers raced to where the old watcher stood. With her concentration broken and strange aura seemingly disturbed, Maiev turned to see the troll, along with her usual Elvin entourage, a lupine degenerate, and one other, a hulking druid with strong bovine features. When Maiev turned her gaze back to where Falina was struck down, she found nothing but an empty pile of reddish-pink snow. Ima and the others looked to the scene of scattered sentinels and broken glaives and found the collective urge to flee dwelled equally within them. "W-What happened?"

"They were waiting for us. Someone must have informed them we were coming." Maiev informed with a monotone drawl as the group quickly moved down the road and to the lesser traveled paths.

"There were pleanty'a people talking at th'pub the other night. Coulda been anyone." Daggerfang shrugged; his plans to travel to his home city were thwarted by drunken memories of better times and innocent company. The muttering and whispers he heard also seemed to include a tall, feral looking rogue which led to one particularly rowdy bar fight. He decided that it was far safer to travel with his fellow strays than risk being recognized and singled out in the wilderness.

"The soldiers, they still breathe. Are we leaving them to die?" Potan mused as the nearly buried sentinels seemed to disappear into the blanketing snow.

"Say a prayer if you feel the need to. But they're not your friends, you should know this." Christoffel shivered; his face was still pale with sickness, but the rest of him seemed well enough to make the frigid journey to the neutral city. Potan muttered a prayer of peace and guidance, whether the young women would be rescued and find their way to their warm beds or the final grip of nature. The tauren usually traveled alone, if ever. Though the majority of the company he walked with would border on the dregs of the world, he could not help at smile at the worried troll beside him with the tiny, dancing flower in her hair. He was eager to study the plant and was more than delighted when Imajin offered him a spot in her esteemed company.

"Whatever lets just keep going? Its going to be freezing soon and my ass would much rather be in a warm cot than a cold clearing." Shandori snarled, quickly glancing to Maiev with a slight shutter. "You took on a bunch of sentinels without a scratch? Remind me never to piss you off when you're in a mood." Maiev grunted in response and rubbed a large bruise that was forming on her thigh, as a sharp wind coolly caused small tears to well up in her squinting eyes. The group would not make it to the safe house for the evening but somehow, sitting around a magically lit fire and recounting tales of their sorted adventures seemed to calm those whose hearts were shaking and bring a smile to the faces of those who found themselves able.

* * *

It was the end of the work week and Orifiel smiled in her extra hour of sleep. The one day she was afforded rest and Archmage Romulus took over her duties was her favorite day of the week. With all that was happening: the arrival of the shaman warders, the daily hearings, complaints, clashes, and requests, on top of her high elf guest's insult to a night elf priestess of some influence, Orifiel always smiled in anticipation of her free day. She cocooned herself in her deep purple bed sheets as the grumpy tugging hands of Inge moved to reclaim her share of covers. Orifiel grunted and poked an arm through the top of the bed sheet cocoon to allow her adopted daughter to pull the bottom sheet over her tiny frame.

"Cold." Inge sleepily huffed. Orifiel gave an affirmation through a long yawn as she moved to stretch.

"Good morning Inge. Did you sleep well…in my bed…again?" Orifiel playfully sighed. Inge nodded, nuzzling her face into the soft lavender pillow beneath her pale blonde head.

"Papa no here." She proudly proclaimed as if conquering a contested piece of sacred territory. Orifiel smiled and stroked Inge's forehead.

"Well you better enjoy it while you can. Papa will be here all the time soon and you'll have to sleep in your big girl bed."

"Why?" Inge pouted, pulling the deep purple sheet over her shoulders. She much preferred sleeping in the lush people bed with the heat of adoptive mother beside her rather than the small, child sized bed she was accustomed to. The small room, just beside Orifiel's own never seemed close enough for the child, who even occasionally tried to muscle her way in when papa was around, much to his dismay. Orifiel shifted to sit up with warmth in her eyes and joy in her smile.

"Because papa misses his bed and mama misses papa."

"Miss me too?" Inge asked and, forsaking her covers moved her arms up for a hug. Orifiel obliged.

"You're not going anywhere Inge but you need to sleep in your big girl bed because that is where pretty and super smart girls like you belong. Come on now, let's get you dressed. I'm meeting with auntie Violet today for lunch. We're going to have a girl's day. What do you say?" Orifiel sighed at the sight of a frightened face quickly being sheathed by a protective layer of bed sheets. The childish quivering caused the sheet-barrier to quiver. "…Inge?"

"NO. GOAT. GIRL!" Inge shouted and shook her head underneath the purple shroud. Orifiel gave an annoyed sigh as she exchanged her night garments for a casual pair of deerskin leather pants and a deep purple linen shirt, adorned with embroidered flowers of the same color. Orifiel then managed to free the little girl from her bed sheet shield and helped Inge into a pale pink shirt and strap-dress.

"Well mama is going to spend time with auntie Violet. Would you rather spend time with Belna or Ferris today if their parents say its ok?" Orifiel asked, causing Inge to stop and think for a moment. The young "moo-cow" child DID get a new doll set recently while Ferris' father always let them help when he did his baking. The majority of the 'help' came in the form of disposing of the end result via devouring little mouths. Weighing her options carefully, Inge decided she wished to spend time playing with dolls while her mother spent time with, in her mind, a frighteningly misshapen looking "goat girl." When the pair were fully dressed and finished a light breakfast of milk and jammed toast, Orifiel and Inge set off for the east residential district within the Pinnacle Bough. They stopped by the home of Belna the tauren to find her mother busy cleaning a small stack of dishes from the morning meal. Orifiel offered the help of her youngest child who whined a little but ultimately agreed if it meant not visiting with auntie goat-girl. Belna was thrilled to have her playmate for the afternoon, but due to some motherly trickery the young girls found themselves cleaning and tidying up before they would be able to bust out their favorite dolls. Orifiel profusely thanked the tauren mother for the kind favor before leaving for the upper bough's small but ever present shopping and restaurant lane. A few of the priestesses and druids did not really recognize her in the casual clothing but many still stopped to greet her. She found Violetina sitting at the designated meeting place, a small café that boasted the best coffee and tea in all of Azeroth. Her friend sat there, arms crossed and tail twitching as one of her two polished purple hooves nervously rocked back and forth. She turned to see Orifiel approaching the small patio area where she sat alone and sent a big smile her way.

"Hello Ori." Violet spoke in her usual cheery tone.

"I hope you weren't waiting too long." Ori said as she took her seat. She noticed the nervous actions and something behind the cheerful eyes of her friend. "Is something the matter?" She asked, causing Violetina to sigh and shake her head.

"Noting. I miss Argus today." Violetina sighed, remembering the very dawn of her youth, back in a time when there were no draenei crash landing in a strange world but only a peaceful, uncorrupted Eredar race.

"Oh no, what happened? Did someone say something to you again?" Orifiel spoke, putting the menu she began to read over down. She had heard those words before and they never preceded anything good.

"Not really say, just looks and whispers, some even laugh. Especially from human. Why tey tink tey so good, Ori?" Violet sighed, fidgeting with her own menu as Orifiel motioned to the night elf waiter who seemed unsure whether or not he should interrupt. He quickly took their order of two cream blended teas, a small salad and grilled wheat bread and cheese sandwich before disappearing back into the quiet café.

"I don't know, Violet. There seems to be a lot of that here, I'm getting rather tired of it myself." Ori admitted. The culture clashes that often kept Orifiel awake at night were terrible enough when they simply dwelled within one race. But as more and more visitors came from different creeds and peoples, the more grievances she had to deal with. Violet gave her a cross look but the feeling did not seem intended for her.

"I mean my people have been in alliance for many year now. I understand if horde mock me but still, human tink we man'ari or demon. It soooo annoy." Violet huffed, looking to one of the branches that lined the small fence around the café patio.

"People like to do that. It makes them feel better about themselves. When I adopted Inge, I can't tell you how many looks I got, how rude people were to her. I can only be thankful that she doesn't seem to notice. It's why I made sure when we got here no one knew about Trenton. People just think he's another one of Seth's assistants."

"Oh how is your baby boy, he well?" Violet was excited but knew well to tone her voice down to a whisper. Orifiel smiled and gave a grateful nod.

"He is. He spends a lot of time with Seth, which is probably for the best. He loves to get under my skin and it would be terrible for race relations if people see me beating the snot out of a human boy." The pair laughed at the mental image as the relieved waiter served them their milk and cream tea. "No, we'll all be much better off when we leave this overgrown shrub." Ori softly smiled as a slight glimmer came to her eye. Violet took a sip of her drink before leaning a little closer.

"Oh? You find someone?"

"Two actually. One is nearly finished; the other isn't too far behind from what Seth has reported. Once the project you and your team are working on is done, we should be able to leave. That's what I'm hoping anyway."

"Wonderful, I so happy for you two. You go someplace private yes? Forest or Mountain?" Violet whispered, all too aware of Orifiel and Seth's situation, over many an afternoon or evening chat or exchanged messages.

"Both if I have anything to say about it, though that sort of real-estate is a bit hard to come by these days." Orifiel took a sip of her cream-tea, cutting it off when she felt the sting of heat on the tip of her tongue.

"Tere always Draenor. Tere is much history..."

"Yes, a bit too much. No we plan to stay in Azeroth, if things pan out." Orifiel quieted herself as the waiter placed her sandwich down on the table in front of her. Violet smiled and thanked the handsome servant for her salad.

"No worries, light will guide you to good place." Violet assured with a crunching bite of her leafy lunch. Ori gave a soft smile. There was still so much that needed to be done, still so far her unknowing guest needed to accomplish. The thousand worries seemed to scratch at the back of her mind, desperate to overcome her thoughts. But the savory bite of a tasty sandwich and the jubilant company across from her was a bold reminder that the sunny day she dwelled in was not one of work or headaches. She smiled as the conversation turned as light as the sparking wood, all fleeting dread for tomorrow seemingly forgotten, if not only for a small time. But as the pair was finishing their lunch, a nervous sounding voice called to the casually clad steward. Orifiel turned to see the young man, standing just outside the café's gate and gasped.

* * *

Hanariel found himself awake an hour earlier than usual. But unlike the typical urge to roll over and bury his face in his pale blue pillow, the morning air around him seemed to call Hanariel to his feet. He sat up and stretched to yawn. At a glance everything about him seemed normal, if not a bit more cheery after his midnight tryst, but as he placed his glasses on something strange shown in the mirror. The golden marks on his hand and arm spread to his back, chest, neck, and forehead. As he touched the glowing marks, he felt nothing but the usual sensation of his own flesh. The only mark that seemed to cause him to wince when his fingers drew near was the golden eye in the center of his forehead. He quickly moved his hand away and worked on cleaning and dressing himself, further investigating the extent of the marks in the bath. He quickly dried himself off and began covering his strange condition with layers of thin clothing. His new, white and gold ensemble seemed all too fitting and the transformed priest was more than relieved to find that the cloak's hood more than covered his glowing face. He was supposed to meet Keesha for breakfast before her lessons that morning but something propelled him towards the Pinnacle Bough. He mentally cursed as his haphazard and panicked steps nearly sent him careening into a visibly pregnant green-haired woman and her white-bearded husband. He did not look up to see their startled violet faces nor did his ears truly register the snarling sound of the night elf hunter's protective pet, but did offer a quick apology before speeding on his way. Orifiel was not in any of the meeting halls or along the usual path she took in the early morning. His last hope for help without leaving the relative safety of the upper bough lay in the leisure district. He scoured the small shops, careful not to show his face to any of the curious shop keepers. Then a flash of white and purple caught his eye in one of the small, out of the way café's. He saw the steward of the tree dining on what looked like a grilled cheese sandwich and tea with one of the Earthen Ring shamans. Hanariel sighed, a slight pang of guilt giving him pause for a moment before disrupting their light hearted lunch. Orifiel turned to see him, her eyes went wide. She gasped as the draenei woman she was with covered her mouth in surprise and looked to her friend for explanation.

"Lady Whitedeer, I-I'm terribly sorry to bother you but…" Han stopped as in what seemed like a matter of seconds the priestess was as his side. She pulled back the hood, looking around to see if anyone was around to witness the action, before investigating the bright, blinding energy that secretly pulsed through the priest. Orifiel seemed to search for something in the marks with her racing eyes and in the end smiled at what she saw. She pulled a small purse from her pant pocket and tossed it to Violet, who was leaning against the small iron café fence.

"That should cover lunch, Violet. Sorry I have to cut things short, but duty calls." Orifiel half sighed, doing her best to contain the excitement in her glowing eyes. Violet stared at the strange patterns on the elf's face and slowly nodded. As the pair quickly walked towards Orifiel's inner sanctum, something had obviously been set in motion, and the knowledge of the event lie deep within the steward's scheming mind.


	20. Flea 20: Spirits in the Material World

**Straydog Saga**

Flea 20: Spirits in the Material World

* * *

Keesha couldn't shake the mild hurt and annoyance bubbling through her like a poorly heated cauldron. She was supposed to meet Han before her lessons that day for breakfast but the minutes passed and the priest was no where to be found. She was forced to leave the restaurant with only a small cup of orange juice and indignant bile to get her through her lesson. The night before seemed so nice, his sentiment seemed so real. Keesha roughly sighed as she made her way to the portals and desperately tried to focus on the lesson ahead. The sadness and insecurity swirling in her chest would surely get her killed if she let the maelstrom within get the better of her. Keesha found herself at the door to her classroom, her hand hovering over the door-rune as her heart and stomach began to settle. When her eyes showed no sign of emotion she allowed the door to open. The roots creaked upright, as if waking up from a long nap, and shook the sand from their sharp tips.

"Mornin' boys." Keesha grunted, taking her pitch black cloak and placing it on the ground. Her eyes were fully focused on the dancing roots, which twisted and swayed, in preparation for their terminal tango. More roots came alive as Keesha readied herself and a conflagration spell. When the roots shot forward to strike, Keesha nimbly leaped to the side while holding her stance and firing her spell towards her attackers. The flames were so hot they did not burn the root, but rather melted it, any water within instantly turning to steam. Another came and fell prey to her terrible heat. She felt dark anger fill her mind as she decided to tone things back a bit with a shadowy curse. The roots afflicted with the spell felt bits of their wooden flesh melt away before falling to the sandy floor in spongy pieces. Keesha sneered at what would have easily overtaken her back when she first began her lessons under Nightgaze. But the library at her fingertips and the elder's sparse but practical lessons amplified her abilities to the point where her enemies seemed like paper targets. But as she cut, burned, and tore through the roots something gnawed at the back of her consciousness. Though she culled the crowd of wooden assailants with ease, they simply grew back and kept coming. Soon her mortal body would tire and they would still continue their infinite assault, as they did every lesson.

"What am I missing?" She grunted as she immolated another stabbing root. She could feel small beads of sweat forming on her forehead. The magnitude of the spells caused her stamina and concentration to wane. But the roots seemed to constantly replenish and Keesha quickly found she could barely keep up. Day in and day out it was always the same, no matter how talented she became at her art or how powerfully her spells struck. The roots seemed endless, her efforts futile. She had nearly forgotten the puzzle that was supposed to be a clue as she decided the path of power would surely be the one to defeat the imposing creatures. A root managed to catch her in the shoulder again, and again she heard a voice in her keen ear. She tried, as she always did, to push back the sound but when another root struck her arm, she heard it again. The words barely formed when her eyes went wide. She knew the horrible man that produced the sound and she knew where he dwelled. She shook her head and managed to avoid another strike to the arm. Her heart and mind raced as she actually allowed another root to come close and nick her thigh. There were two voices then, a woman's voice joined the man's. Keesha's blood ran cold. Her mind thought as fast as it could while her body began moving just in range of the root's slashing attacks, only enough to receive more information. She heard a seductive tone of yet another voice, one she knew very well. She began to think about all that had happened since she came to the tree. Keesha thought about Han's strange encounters with the branches and his descriptions of his visions. Were the voices she heard, the shades of memory coming to her through the roots as they did for Han and his branches? She recalled the words to Nightgaze's puzzle once more in her head and with a snap in her mind she found bitter laughter escaping her smiling lips. She dodged another attack as a small seed began to grow into a bold thought. Keesha planted her feet firmly into the sand and made no attempt to move as one giant root was poised to impale her through the stomach. Her vision went blank, her mind white. As the wooden weapon punched through her abdomen, nothing came out the other side. Instead the large appendage splintered into thousands of tiny tendrils within the student. As the strange root made its way into her mind, the blank stare began to find shadows and shapes forming.

With a loud snap, Keesha found herself, or rather a grayish image of herself, standing in a vast forest. She looked to her stomach for a wound but found the unstained fabric of her usual uniform. The trees themselves seemed drained of vitality as limp gray grass hung in the lack-luster wind. She walked along a rough dirt road that was punctuated by small patches of cobblestone. She came to a figure lying, muddy and cold, in a small ditch. She stopped her progression and resisted the urge to look away. The young woman was dressed in blood-spattered rags. The stains themselves were dried and rust colored. She lay there, not fully awake or aware of her surroundings as flashes of memory caused slight whimpers to escape her dry, cracked lips. Keesha watched as a small, pony drawn cart came up the road. It was driven by an elderly human woman while her two adult children sat in the back with their wares. The pony drawn cart stopped as the humorless old woman turned to look at the girl with a sneer.

"Mother, why have we stopped?" The old woman's daughter huffed as she stood to see what caused their delay. The icy blue eyes spied what appeared to be a dirty, living clump of filth on the side of the road. No concern or compassion seemed to dwell in them. "What is that?"

"A girl, apparently." The old woman smiled a sick and toothless grin as she placed the reins down and moved from her perch. She hobbled to where the young girl lay and nudged her with her fine-shoed foot. The action seemed to snap the dark-skinned girl back into reality as she looked to the elder with tear-stained brown eyes. "What has happened child?" It took the girl a moment to speak but few words of consequence came. She could not bear to relive the shattering of her world, the death of her father, or the culling of her beloved home. Instead, the best she could muster was a shaky "I can't remember…" The old women lifted her brow but kept her eye on the girl. Though she seemed shaken, but she seemed well fed and her frame looked sturdy enough. A sly smile crept onto her wrinkled face.

"I am Lady Ester, seller of fine magical relics. You like magic, child?" Ester asked. The answer she received was a conscious nod. "I could use as assistant. In exchange for a little help here and there, I will keep you in food and clothing. Does that sound reasonable?" Ester asked, forcing her voice to sound a shade of gentle she did not seem accustomed to. But the tone was enough to convince the girl that it was the best decision she could make. Keesha shook her head and called to the teenage girl but no attempted warning seemed to be heard. The old woman called to her children, Jasmine and Yasir, to help the teenager into the back of the cart and the scene began to fade. Keesha found herself in a dusty basement she hoped never to see again. There, a year older, the girl labored. She was clothed in tired dresses that were no longer suitable for the fashion-conscious Jasmine. While the teen's figure spoke of decent meals, her once soft hands were growing hard from laboring chores. While Ester and her children enjoyed some rest in their relic dealing shop, all of the servant-level tasks for both shop and home were passed onto their young ward. The few moments that were spared for sleep were shared with rodents and roaches in the tiny storage cellar below the shop. The thread-bare cot was soft but started to stink from improper care. But all these hardships were nothing in her mind as the sun began to sink. When the light dipped over the horizon, he would come. It had started only a few weeks after her arrival at the shop, but once the blood and dirt was cleaned from her frame, the young woman caught the wandering eye of Yasir. She shook a little in the cold night air, hoping he would forget, hoping he had something to do that night that would keep him away from the cellar door. But that night, like many nights before, she heard the doorknob click. She winced as small, fear-filled tears began to fall. All the while, the warlock strained not to look away. The young victim felt every bone in her adult body begin to tremble. Her eyes and cheeks became wet as a sinister light entered the scene. The flickering lantern came with the sound of soft boots slowly descending a dilapidated old wooden staircase. As coal black, shark-like eyes fixed on the young woman, the scene mercifully went gray. The light of dawn returned to the dusty cellar to shine upon the sweat-soaked body of the young woman as she helped haul crates filled with new items into the corner of the room. She set one of the heavy boxes down and wiped her brow.

"Keesha, these boxes will NOT move themselves!" Jasmine called from the top of the staircase with a huff.

"Coming!" The young Keesha breathlessly spoke as she prepared to retrieve another box with more haste. She did her best to move the next few boxes in time with Jasmine's tapping foot but nearly stumbled down the steps as a box flew freely to the landing.

"You better not break anything." Jasmine sighed, eyeing her well kept manicure. Young Keesha ran to the bottom of the steps to see the box slightly cracked, but the leather tomes within seemed fine. As she lifted the crate, a small black book fell to her feet. She placed the crate down with the others before picking it up. The book was unnaturally cool to the touch and seemed to implore the innocent girl to explore its depths. As she cracked the well worn spine, she found that the language was old but not unreadable. Another call, this time from Ester caused her to snap the book shut and stash the tiny tome in her dusty cot. She ran up the steps once more to her mistress's call as the room began to swirl and fade again. The current Keesha remembered the dark night that came into view well. It was one the younger self actually anticipated. The golden rule of what became her most cherished companion caressed her mind like a loving mother's hand. The secrets that seemed to be just for her offered an escape far more potent than the key her father kept. That very key that led to her escape from the culling and landed her in the very depths of hell itself. But in hell, there were demons, demons willing to submit themselves to a master's will, for a price. The price was so easily paid that a shard of broken glass or wire could provide what the creatures craved. The summoning runes scrawled within the black book looked as if they were drawn by children, but the young Keesha could feel their strength. She cut the palm of her hand and drew the simple rune on the wall with her own blood and with a chanted spell, the drawing began to glow a sickening purple. The sun was setting and young Keesha's guest of honor would arrive just in time for her pet to arrive. The young girl knew better than to show any weakness. According to her book, doing so would ensure her own death. She coolly smiled as something emerged from her efforts. The sight and smell of the beast were enough to make even the most seasoned warriors wretch. With a numb resolve and a quick tongue, young Keesha fully bound the beast in one final locking spell. The beast moaned, unable to speak, but young Keesha quickly quieted it.

"Soon, your services will be paid for." She whispered as the last ray of light fled the scene. Her smile widened as the sinister light returned from the top of the staircase. But when Yasir turned to gaze upon his nightly victim he found something else lurking in the darkness. The faint lantern light revealed a repulsive beast; it was mostly human looking in the chest but it was impossibly large and had to bend over in the mortal made cellar. Bloodied rags were draped around its massive legs and its head was completely obscured by a massive metal structure resembling a pyramid. It wielded a massive blade, which seemed to eternally drip with the blood of a thousand deserving wretches. The young Keesha stood, and with a cool smile, offered the terrible demon his payment. Just as the beast's blade came down on the screaming man, a bright flash of light took the adult Keesha to another place. She was surrounded by swirling colors, an implied floor created there for her own mind's comfort. She knelt under the weight of her memories.

"Why do I have to see all this again? What good does it do?" She asked not expecting an answer. When a voice came to offer a response she felt her heart leap.

"Think." It said, a little more than an echo in her aching mind. She had figured out part of the mystery. The roots, like the branches, gave visions. While Han's seemed to focus on the lives of others, the roots only offered Keesha a bleak review of her own past. She was not offered any happy moments with her parents, or her moment of vengeful triumph over the tyranny of the lich king. The dark memories were a turning point in her life when Keesha the merchant's daughter and pure victim became the vengeful warlock.

"These memories, they're the worst parts of my life." She sighed, heart skipping a beat a little as the echoing voice grumbled for her to continue the thought. Her mind went quiet as something took root. She mulled the little thought as it began to grow. It shifted to the puzzle Lord Nightgaze provided and began to quietly whisper it to herself. "What tears apart a bright new start and pulls us to the lifeless dark? That haunts our steps with stark regrets, never missing the mark? And from it flee, never do we, escape its senseless spark. But in the face of dim disgrace, one must find the start…" Her eyes seemed to search through the spoken words as the spirit that dwelled with her did its best to stay silent in its anticipation. Then at once it came like a rush of cool water crashing against a heated face.

"The past. That's the answer, isn't it?" She looked around for some tangible body to the voice but when she found none continued her thought out loud. "The past can hold you back, maybe even kill you if you let it. It can haunt you and it's always going to hit you hard, so it "never misses the mark." No matter how hard you try to forget it all happened, it DID happen. So you can't escape it. And…and…that last line still sucks." She took a moment and laughed before stating the final thought with a smile. "You can't move on from the terrible things you lived through if you try to forget it all without dealing with it. Is that it?" She called, triumph in her heart and a glorious energy coursing through her being. The colors suddenly stopped, as if frozen and drained away into blackness. Keesha turned to see what loosely resembled a cloud of golden light. The cloud had a mortal face made of light and smoke but very little else in the way of features. Keesha slowly approached the beaming face as it deeply chuckled to itself.

"You understand now. Congratulations, Keesha Hazzad" It rumbled in a calm, earthy tone. It smiled as Keesha's hands went to her hips and a mildly annoyed look came to her face.

"Err, thanks but who are you and where the hell am I?" Keesha asked. The strange spirit seemed to wince as some of its cloudy form seemed to dissipate. It pulled the spirit-matter in and did its best to reply.

"Me? I am nothing more than a remnant the tree keeps. Someday I hope to be more than what I am but for now, I am nothing more than what you see. My fellow remnants and spirits call me "Net." We are in another world within the physical plane, a place only reached through Mydrassil's will. It is hard to explain but you have earned some answers, young mortal. I will do my best to answer." It rumbled. Keesha ordered her questions and, as calmly as she was able began her interrogation of the remnant.

"First of all, the roots are why I'm here, right? I get the visions and stuff but why would they take me here?"

"You are here because if your cleverness and indomitable spirit. It is in the roots' and branches' design to provide insight to the worthy and create a space for the talented to become the most they can be. Fed on potent magical waters, the tree grew into a strange being. It became apparent to those that nurtured it from seed that Mydrassil had its own intelligence when the Naga began their attacks and quickly found themselves defeated, not by scores of mortals but armies of roots and razor-leaves. You are special, as is your mate, for the roots have not torn you asunder and the branches have not driven him to madness."

"M-My mate? Spirit, please! I kissed the guy once and he ditches me the next day. What makes you think I'm keepin' his vanilla-elf ass?" Keesha blushed and crossed her arms with heated bravado, but the smiling fragment of a spirit did not seem convinced that his statement was false. "Anyway, so if the roots kill and the branches make you crazy then why are we so special?" Keesha asked with a raised brow.

"The Steward and The Archmage chose you both for these trials. You both have succeeded when many others have failed before you. They saw qualities in you that would lend you both well to the magic of Mydrassil. If you wish to know more about that, you must confront the Archmage, for he is your guide in all this." The spirit bowed its cloudy face in apology.

"So wait this, this was all planned out? How do you know?"

"I am afraid so. Please do not be angry, Lady Hazzad. They had to be sure that you and the other one were strong enough in mind, heart, and spirit to survive the trials. I do not agree with their methods, but the results are far beyond what this old remnant has seen before. And I know all this because, frankly, spirits tend to be nosey when it comes to matters in the material world." Net informed with what looked like a strong attempt at a warm smile.

"So what was the damn point of all this?"

"That is a question for the Archmage." Net bowed. "Our time grows short…" Net whispered as Keesha felt herself pulled backwards. In a rush, blackness filled her vision and when she opened her eyes again she found herself back on the sandy floor of her lesson room. While there was no blood or evidence of her physical trauma, she felt the cold air in the room bathe her naked form. She sat up and clutched herself, shivering a little as something even more strange caught her attention. The same golden runes that appeared on Hanariel's body were mirrored on hers. Before she had time to contemplate their appearance the sound of a pair of hands slowly clapping caused her to turn to the door. From the darkness, Seth Nightgaze emerged, a satisfied smile on his face.

"It is about time." He smirked and tossed the human a black robe to cover herself with. He turned to grant her a moment of privacy before he felt a strong grip on his arm. He turned with a questioning eyebrow raised as the glowing eye pattern on Keesha's forehead glared as brightly as his own working orbs.

"We need to talk…"

* * *

"What is happening to me?" Han asked, heart speeding in his chest while the cool expression on Lady Whitedeer's face did nothing to slow the steady pounding within. She motioned for him to sit on one of the plush, white-leather couches but his legs did not bend. Han pulled off his hood to reveal the strange runes and did his best to straighten his arm so that his long sleeve would fall and reveal the patterns on his hand and the rest of his appendage. Orifiel nodded and took a step towards him. She gently gripped his hand with both of hers and pulled it down to chest level. She closed her eyes and the strange eye pattern on his palm began to pulsate.

"What are you doing?"

"Shhh. Relax." She whispered as her twin orbs seemed to rush beneath their lids. She placed his arm at his side before placing two fingers on the center of Han's forehead. The eye mark there grew bright for a moment but dimmed when the night elf moved her hand.

"I see."

"What do you see? What's going on?" Han rasped as a smile came to the steward's face. She stroked her chin for a moment before casting the bewildered looking elf a satisfied look.

"You passed."

"I wha- am I missing something?" He asked, eyes wide and desperate confusion shining through his words.

"Sit down. I'll get you a glass of water and explain." Orifiel nodded, turning to leave the room for a moment and fetch her guest a small glass of water while he did as he was told. A moment later the steward returned with a glass of water, a small cup of tea and an extra glass in case Hanariel needed a more potent drink. "Now then…I regret not being able to prepare you better for this but secrecy was key in assuring you had the best chance of passing a little trial I set up. If you had known you were being tested, it might have colored your perceptions and thus, led you down the wrong path."

"Ok wait, what's this test and why were you testing me in the first place? Lady Windrunner said I was coming here on leave to try and get myself together. Was she aware of this?"

"Oh yes, she was most cooperative." Orifiel said with a deadpan expression as she moved to take a sip of her cocoanut black tea. "Han, think back, do you remember anything about the day you lost your arm. What were you told when you came to?"

"I-I don't remember much. Just a terrible pain and then everything went black. The medics told me the light preserved me long enough for them to reach me…why?"

"The light had nothing to do with your survival Hanariel. I am not speaking ill of your calling, the light certainly helped you get this far, but there was another power at work. At least I thought that was the case when I heard about your story. I wanted to test you and see if you were truly one who would be receptive to Mydrassil and by the look of it, Mydrassil has claimed you as one of its champions." Orifiel smiled at the look of shock and bewilderment on the priest's face. Such a thought, that the light was not the driving force behind his survival made his thoughts drop and mind reel.

"If it was not the light that saved me, then what?"

"That's not something I can tell you, but I'm sure Mydrassil will be able to give you the answers you need. You've been marked by Mydrassil which means with these runes, you are in control of your visions, can gleam the memories of others, and can even command some parts of the tree itself. Ask it to reveal the truth and I'm certain it will." Orifiel nodded as Han took a sip of his water, eyes never leaving hers. He searched for any hint of sinister intent but her tone and aura gave him no clues, no inkling of her true intentions.

"But, why me? I don't see any marks on you."

"I am called the steward of the tree for a reason. While I raised it from a seed, there has always been a barrier between us. I have my theories as to why that is but that is for another time. I've been searching for someone to claim the title of High Mystic of the White Branch. I think, in time, you will be that someone if you accept the task." Orifiel spoke, voice quiet and somewhat pleading. Hanariel felt his heart slow and his shoulder grow lax. He felt a slight pang within as a small, sad hope filled her beautiful pale eyes.

"There's too much about this I need to figure out first." Han whispered, mind starting to race. The events of the last few days seemed to be happening so fast, like a filled balloon finally bursting. The words "High Mystic" seemed like sweat honey to his usually mediocre hearing but the swirling chaos and the strange rush kept him from savoring the thought for long.

"Of course. You can call the branches to you anywhere in the upper bough anytime you wish. You don't need the safe room anymore." Orifiel informed, draining the remainder of her tea. Hanariel stood, leaving his water untouched, and excused himself. Orifiel smiled at his retreating back. Hope seemed to radiate from the very core of her spirit as the visions she'd gleamed from the runes danced about her mind like visual medicine.


	21. Flea 21: Don't Answer Me

**Straydog Saga**

Flea 21: Don't Answer Me…

* * *

"Pass me another bit of bear meat will you?" Shandori softly spoke in the chilly night air. The rogue who shared the small fallen log for a seat complied. The pair sat just behind a modest and private winter home nestled deep in the northern mountains of Winterspring, tending to a large bonfire and a thirst best quenched with aged malt wine. Though the sound of the occasional saber making night meal of some poor creature occasionally came from the snowy trees, nothing specifically hunting them seemed to emerge. Christoffel tossed another crisp piece of wood on the bonfire and impaled a small hunk of bear meat on a long stick before passing it to Shandori who took a long swig from her wine bottle. He and Shandori held their dinner to the licking flames as juice began dripping onto the heated wood with a sizzling hiss.

"Smells great." Christoffel spoke while inhaling the aroma of cooking meat and burning wood.

"Glad to see you've got your appetite back."

"It never left. I just gagged on those horrible bowls of wood shaving-paste you call porridge." Christoffel softly laughed, pulling his loaned coat closer around his neck with one hand and holding his food over the fire with the other.

"So what now?" Shandori asked with a sniffle from the smoke. Christoffel reached for his own large bottle of red wine before replying.

"What do you mean?"

"We're in the shit is what I mean. We can't hide here forever with these people. What do you think we should do?" Shandori mused, slowly turning the bear meat laden stick in the flames. Chris gave a small smirk.

"What's all this 'we' stuff. I think the sentinels would be able to get over their prejudices just this once if it meant justice was done. I wonder how much I'd make if I turned in your purple ass." He looked to Shandori with a devious gaze before taking a large gulp of bitter wine causing a sour grimace to spread over his temporarily stained teeth.

"Oh Please, this from the guy who gets stabbed in the chest by his crazy stalker ex- girlfriend then nearly melts. You'd be a puddle of ooze without me carting your ass around…who WAS that crazy zombie elf anyway?" Her amused looked turned to one of concern as a small smile still lingered on Christoffel's lips but his eyes gazed at the bonfire with more than just flame within.

"She wasn't my ex-anything really. Just someone I had history with. A piece of work but you took care of her, or so I hear." Christoffel shrugged and pulled his semi-charred meal from its place in the fire. He let it hang in the air allowing the heat from its surface to climb to the star-dotted sky.

"Well I'm glad she ended up being the greasy smear on the landscape and not you. I mean if you weren't around I'd have to deal with all these crazies myself." She said, motioning to F-bomb's winter home.

"Yes well, as crazy as they are YOU are the one responsible for collecting them. Some debts you should just let go." He shook his head, poking the cooked food to see if it was cool enough to eat. "But at least they've been more than helpful and we'll be loosing a few of them soon I'd imagine. Ima has her plant and once she gets the seeds from it she'll be able to restore her gnome appearance and go back to school. F-Bomb is home for all intensive purposes. I'm sure we could shake the others if we really needed to."

"Yeah, especially since the latest edition to our little traveling circus showed up. I thought what's her name was supposed to go to town to meet up with her brother or something. Why the hell is she staying here?" Shandori snorted, pulling her own meal from the flames and holding it close to the snow. When the group arrived at F-bomb's winter home they found an extra addition happily marveling at F-bomb's old gem-cutting projects. The young draenei girl, who called herself 'Pashima', seemed pleasant enough, but overly childish in her mannerisms for a teenager. Her tone of voice was similar to a nail being driven into Shandori's ear and the warrior did not seem to have the years of female drown-out conditioning that Christoffel developed in his time with the night elf. Still, Ima seemed grateful for the light hearted company of a non- criminal and fellow young woman. The pair seemed to quickly forge a friendship of giggles and gossipy stories. While the rest of the group was content to dine on stores of beans and broiled meats, Christoffel and Shandori found the mountain air more comfortable after spending several days cooped up in a musky hospital.

"I don't know it's not really important at this point. We should just lay low, use the house offered to us, and then bolt for Everlook when things settle a bit. We can probably pull the slave act again and hitch a ride on a wyvern if you don't trust the alliance flight service." Christoffel nodded taking a big bite of his savory supper.

"Money is running low though. We lost a bit when I got jailed and spent a lot on your hospital bills. I hate to say it but we may need to suck it up and take another job soon." Shandori said, moving to take a bite of her meal, only to realize it was still too hot to chew. She opened her mouth, moving the bite of food and attempting to blow on it before continuing to eat.

"Well Everlook would be a good place to look for one if, you know, we don't get ram rodded by a bunch of sentinels. Are you ok?" Christoffel asked with a raised eyebrow at the warrior furiously waving her hand in front of her mouth. When the bit of food within was finally cool enough to work with, she finished chewing and swallowed.

"Y-Yeah. It was still hot. The sentinels know we're in the area and I guess they assume we're hiding out in Everlook but the good thing is the bitches don't know what Meryld looks like at least. She could head into town and get us some leads."

"I don't know. The bounty on your head is damn high; looking for work might not be doable at this point." Christoffel sighed.

"Well how else are we going to make money? It's not like I can just build a forge somewhere and just hammer out plate pieces without having to travel for materials and getting some attention."

"I…don't know." He sighed. The pair sat there in silence for a moment as the sounds of the night seemed more than happy to fill the auditory space. Shandori looked to the blinking stars, somewhat obscured by the small but illuminating fire, eyes not focused at any one in particular. She took a cooler bite of her dinner and idly chewed.

"We'll get by, we always seem to." Shandori shrugged, mind rolling over the events of the last few months as she took another swig of wine. The espionage, the slaughter of centaurs, fights against magical foes, and escaping a night elf prison would have seemed like interesting tales to tell little village children, had they not been so fresh in her mind and so dastardly in nature. The pair seemed content to let the conversation drop with the temperature. Just as the final embers from their bonfire made a soft, glowing goodbye, a scream echoed from the dimly lit cabin. Shandori unsheathed the sword she always kept at her hip, Christoffel's fingers finding their way to his well-worn daggers. Neither of them could have known what was waiting for them inside the cabin as they opened the door with looks of bewilderment and anger flaring up in their frigid features.

* * *

Ima hadn't laughed so hard in months. Pashima seemed to truly have a way with words as she spun story after story about her travels with her elder brother and his friends. The exaggerated yarns usually ended in hilarious missteps into the maw of a yawning dragon or tripping over the rocky toe of a dormant elemental giant. As silly or grandiose as the tales seemed to get, the smile never left Ima's tusked mouth. The sun was quickly setting over the small but well garnished cabin and while Meryld and F-Bomb prepared a nice meal of baked beans and broiled bear meat for the group, the others seemed to go about their own important business. Shandori and Christoffel left out the back door to fetch wood for a bonfire while Daggerfang, masked and fully cloaked, left for Everlook to retrieve some much needed supplies. If all went according to plan he would return with seasoned rations and his own favorite spirits. Potan decided he would explore the forests near the small cabin, examining the natural beauty as well as checking for any traps in the landscape. Maiev, far more exhausted from her encounter with the sentinels than anyone realized, took up residence in one of the cabin's soft, if excessively pillowed and lacey beds. Maiev's drowsy mind snorted in wonder at how such a richly decorated location was not plundered in the goblin's absence. But the treacherous sloping mountains, ferocious winter sabers, and sub-freezing winds just outside the bedroom window served as an ample security system as the slight howl of the night breeze seemed like a hollow threat within the warm walls.

After dinner F-Bomb showed the aching Meryld to a small hot spring fairly close by the cabin where the older woman and goblin with expensive tastes could relax in relative luxury. After cleaning up after their meal and changing into night clothes, the two youngest members of the group decided to continue their storytelling well after the sun went down. Clutching a pillow to her trembling chest, Pashima hung on every word of Ima's terrifying ghost tale. The troll even held a small fire spell beneath her chin for effect. The ghostly light flickered in the darkness as Ima spoke of terrifying entities cloaked in darkness only seen by mortals just as their life was to be snuffed out. Ima held back an amused laugh as the old troll tale, which was considered to be lame even by the youngest in her tribe. But each word seemed to heighten the mood and cause the moonlight that shown into the small windows to darken. Ima's voice diminished as she continued her tale, until all was silent. All that could be heard was the slight crackling of the fire spell and the chattering of a young tail trembling against the wooden floor. Then with a loud clap the fire spell lit up the room as Ima roared in her telling of the story, causing a loud, banshee-grade screech to erupt from Pashima, sending her behind one of the soft, green couches. The fire from Ima's spell ignited some of the extinguished candles as a pang of pity and guilt flowed through her.

"Pashima, are you ok? It was just a stupid old story!" Ima spoke in a comforting tone as she helped a cowering and whimpering Pashima off the floor. It was then that the weapon wielding elves burst in through the back door, looks of concern and fear quickly shifting to ones of anger and annoyance.

"What the hell is going on in here?" Shandori asked, looking around to see if there were truly any hidden monsters in the night.

"J-Just telling ghost stories, Master Dori…"

"Don't "Master Dori" me! In case you didn't get the damn memo we're supposed to be lying low, not attracting attention? Where do you two get off screaming and messing around like that! Did you leave your brains back at Nighthaven?" Shandori growled, careful not to raise her voice too much in hypocrisy. The harsh words only made Ima's shoulder's cringe and eyes wet in apology. She turned to see Pashima trembling as large, wet tears came streaming down her pouting face. A grimace and a hiccup later, the teenager was in a full on sob, clutching her eyes and leaning into Ima for a protective hug. The kindly troll obliged, stroking the draenei's back and speaking words of reassurance, causing Shandori to blush and go wide eyed in confusion. Ima shot her a scolding look.

"You didn't need to be so harsh…"

"W-What? You're the ones screaming and shit. And I'm the asshole here? J-Just keep it down from now on, alright? Damn…" Shandori hissed, retreating to a set of steps leading to the upstairs bedrooms. Christoffel rolled his eyes and shook his head at the scene and begrudgingly followed his constant companion. When he came up the steps Christoffel found one of the four bedroom doors ajar. He gave a small knock before entering to find Shandori pacing around the room like an angry panther.

"You alright?" He quietly asked, closing the door before crossing his arms and leaning against the doorframe.

"They scared the shit out of me, playing games. I call them out on it and I'M the bad guy?"

"They're just children, Dori. Children do that. Question is why do you care?" He shrugged, eyes focusing on the floor.

"I…don't know. I think all of this is just getting to me. Fuck. It was so much easier when it was just the two of us." Shandori sighed, plopping onto a small bed whose plush-ness threatened to swallow her whole. "What the hell? Damn goblin beds…" Shandori lightly laughed as she continued to sink in the mire of pillows and sheets.

"Hold on." Christoffel smiled, offering his hand. He pulled her back onto her feet and looked to the orange, yellow, and bright pink monstrosity with a snort. "If it weren't so small I'd say that's something you'd have found in a magister's chambers back in Silvermoon." He shook his head with a nostalgic smile.

"Bleh, no wonder your kind was kicked out of Kalimor. I would have executed the pansy-elf who designed that thing." Shandori laughed, turning to check and make sure her comment didn't rile her companion too badly. But his sad green eyes entered their usual distant state, blankly focusing on the colorful mess that resembled the hues he remembered as a young child. "Oh come on, it was a joke."

"I know." He sighed, carefully sinking into the colorful abyss. "Its not so bad if you take it easy. Maybe you're night elf butt's just too fat for it."

"Ok, you know I was going to be nice to you and share, but you're ass is sleeping on the floor tonight if a couch isn't free." Shandori said as she once again sank into the bed, trying her best to eject her companion from its soft clutches. Christoffel extended his legs and planted his feet on the floor. Shandori pushed harder, but found little traction. Her actions caused Chris's eyes to joyfully return to the present as a small amused chuckle escaped his smiling mouth.

"You're not going to win."

"Yes I will!" She asserted, shifting on the bed until she knelt behind him. With her full weight to aid her she managed to push Chris onto the floor, nearly falling forward onto its wooden surface herself. The pair snickered but did their best to keep quiet in their laughter. The red blush of wine finally came into full affect on both their faces. "I told you I'd win."

"Congratulations, now…" He smirked, nimbly rising to his feet and reclaiming a spot in the colorful bed. Shandori rolled away as he attempted to mount a counter attack. Shandori put up a brave fight and did her best not to squeal as the under handed rogue used dishonorable hand grabs to try and eject her. She quickly blocked and placed her hand in a strategic place in hopes of a guaranteed surrender.

"AH, Ok, ok. I give up!" Christoffel yelped, doing his best to distance a very sensitive area from a wine-drunk and determined hand. There was a brief moment, a tangible aura that surrounded them that seemed to beacon their childish actions into something a bit more adult. But both foolish elves blamed the strange sensation on the amount of wine they drank and in the end the pair found an uneasy truce, allowing the wine and travel fatigue to overtake them as they sank deep into the sun-touched and plush-bound depths of sleep.

* * *

Hanariel stood in what looked like the frozen wastes of Icecrown. He could not feel the freezing air despite his thin garb whipping around him but the sights and sounds of the scene were far more colored than his previous visions. He heard the crunch of the snow beneath his cloth-shoed feet as he walked through the bloodied field of mangled flesh. Hanariel kept his eyes forward, passing the corpses of his fellow priests, soldiers, and light-workers. He nearly tripped over a sharp corner buried in the snow. The action caused him to look down and uncover the thick, semi-frozen artifact. Brushing away the snow from its outer bindings, Hanariel's eyes filled with cool tears. The holy book was the very tome his mother gave him the day he became a full priest. It was the book that had helped him heal hundreds of sick and wounded soldiers and always brought a blanket of comfort on a shivering, lonely heart. He heard faint voices but the injured version of himself was no where to be found. There was a blackened and bloodied smear where his intuition mentioned his body should be. But that pull in his stomach suggested that the branches had their own agenda, despite his earnest wish to investigate his survival. A small spark of light managed to pierce through the wet and stuck-together pages of his battered book. Han tried to look through the swaths of blonde hair whipping about his face in the terrible storm. He picked the snow-wet book and concentrated on the tome, remembering a time when it still had the fresh smell of printed paper and newly laid ink. More than a thought or an imagining, Hanariel's very will demanded such a tome be rendered in his grasp. He could feel the very essence of the object shift, as if thick threads that were woven around it were quickly ripped away. When the last of the threads were stripped from the holy book Hanariel gasped at the majestic tome, as new as the day it was given to him. He loosened his grip, allowing the blessed and bound cover to fall open. The golden pages began to turn of their own accord until they rested on a blank page. At once golden letters began to elegantly scrawl along the surface until a story lay before his hungry eyes. He began to read.

"The Stingblade?" he softly spoke as the scene around him began to shift. As he read the scenes began to play out around him. The sight of a bloodied and battered paladin, one he had known as his youngest brother Narlyn, came to his vision and as he read, Han felt his heart sink. His eyes began to withdraw from the pages but the scene carried on, whether he had the want to see them or not. His critically injured brother lay there, desperately reaching for a distant father who stood at his youngest son's side with cold, emotionless eyes. Hanariel remembered when his brother was born and the devastation the illegitimate child caused. There were no more smiles, no more happy stories, no more trust, only a mother whose resentment and spite kept the family fragmented and a father too proud to allow any truth into his ears. Her transgression was always thought to be deliberate by the straight and narrow-minded Larion Dawnblade, despite her insistence that foul magic was involved. When the battles were at their fiercest, the five young men were often the losers no matter the outcome. Han slowly shook his head as the elder man, turned from the young paladin with hate and spite in his teary blue eyes and gave the call of "None live" to those who continued to search for those who survived the brutal battle. Hanariel could feel his throat begin to close in anguish and his whole body shutter at Narlyn's desperate cries as his once beloved father's back disappeared into the frigid landscape. Han's eyes reluctantly made their way back to the golden pages.

"..H-His heart still beat, though bled in hurt and betrayal as the clouds above offered no comfort, no golden sun to warm his chilling body…"

The scene shifted only so much as to allow the sun to quickly sink over the ice-bathed mountains. The shadow of Horde dragonhawks wafted over them like dreadful clouds. Hanariel saw one great creature swoop down like a violet colored vulture over his brother's broken frame. The dragonhawk's rider, a green eyed she-elf, dismounted and moved to seek signs of life from the Quel'Dorei paladin. Her wicked lips formed a grin when a pulse weakly trembled beneath her fingers. She blew a whistle that hung around her neck as several other creatures made their descent.

"The blood elves claimed their prize. A betrayer to their blood, a member of the alliance, a valuable resource, if they could keep him alive long enough…" Hanariel looked up from the book to see one of the blood elves, a medic of some sort, reach into a small sack and pull out a green shard. Han's eyes went wide as the blood elves turned Narlyn to his side and managed to remove his chest plate. They moved some of the chainmail between his neck and chest as he weakly made attempts to fight against the action. The blood elf medic raised the shard and plunged it into Narlyn's flesh. The female wickedly soothed the then screaming paladin as her two male counterparts held him down. The poison fed into his blood, stopping his injuries from getting worse and provided enough of rush to keep his failing heart beating. Hanariel read on.

"They took their prize to a small camp deep within the Crystalsong forest, where he surely awaited a long and p-painful ordeal." Hanariel shook his head and closed his eyes but the scene around him changed. He was no longer in the frozen wastes of Icecrown, but a lavish looking camp site. He was surrounded by ones he used to call friends and allies. But their green eyes and red garb marked them as members of the Horde, and no kin of his. That was when he saw a bright pair of green eyes that used to resemble his own. He nearly dropped the book.

"No, it can't be…" He blinked and ran towards the woman. She was tall, with a pixie cut of soft blonde hair. A few wrinkles formed around her eyes and lips but aside from that age didn't seem to touch her slender frame. A voice called to the elder ranger and Hanariel felt the cold hand of sorrow grip his chest.

"Lady Keenkeris, mam! We have the paladin in stable condition. You may interrogate him at your leisure." The young woman, who found his brother and wickedly partook in his poisoning, reported with obvious pleasure in her words. Lady Cadaria Keenkeris was a name the ranger had not been called since the day she took Hanariel's father's name. Han followed the women to an out of the way tent which seemed draped in the colors of suffering. Hanariel moved into the dark space to find his brother within, alive but intoxicated. The shard that he had been injected with was all but disintegrated into his system as a green tint began showing through he previously pristine blue vision. This wheat-colored hair seemed to darken in places, as his full features slowly began to erode.

"You are certain of the authenticity of his documents, Highraven?" Cadaria asked, not fully recognizing the young elf through the blood, bruises, and swelling. Her subordinate affirmed that the documents were not false. Cadaria paused for a moment before excusing Highraven and all others within the tent. Soon only the Dawnblade family members remained within. Hanariel's eyes were fixed on the scene as the golden pages turned of their own accord. Cadaria took a few steps towards her youngest. He winced in fear and pain as she moved to stroke his bruised cheek.

"You're safe now. I will not let them hurt you anymore." She spoke soothing words to the child she seemingly abandoned. But as her explanation came, Hanariel felt himself choke on his own disbelief and denial. It had been so easy to believe the woman who stood before him had simply left the terrible situation that had come of her tragic run in with a demon-possessed magus. Narlyn shook his head, hoping to block the words that irritated wounds far deeper than what was shown. When the sunwell was destroyed, the ranger had sided with her divine Sun King, her shattered people. She believed in his wisdom and blamed humanity for her world's destruction. While Larion dwelled in relative safety with his alliance allies, she and those left to deal with the devastation no longer knew what security was. Cadaria blamed the Sun King's betrayal and madness on the human's abandonment of her people as well. Her voice shook more in desperation than conviction, trying to get her son to see the error in his ways. Her words held no malice or blame for her youngest, but all her spite and ire seemed reserved for the husband that abandoned her in her darkest time and, in her mind's perception, deliberately led her sons astray. When Narlyn weakly told her of what his previously revered father did in Icecrown, Cadaria nearly snapped every bone in her clinched fist. She pledged that her son would have his revenge if he sought it in return for one mother's request.

"N-Name it." He grunted, as his mother gently smiled.

"When you were born, I had a name I wished to call you. Larion always hated my taste in names and, even before things went the way they did, he never forgave me for 'Hanariel.' He would complain the name made him soft." She rolled her eyes and shook her head with a spiteful tick. "But the rumors were already circulating by then and your father insisted on the name you have now to try and quell any doubts. Not only did he rob you of your true name but Larion forced you to endure magical disfigurements, to appear more like his son. Soon through the healing power of fel energy those disfigurements will be erased. I hold no love for your blood father, but I hold less love for your life long abuser. You 'father' has left you to die, when you've done little else but show utter devotion. If you will be reborn in the glory of your mother's people, the true elves of the sun, will you use the name I wished for you?" She asked. Narlyn seemed to think for a moment, a son's love for a noble father twisting with the cold glare and heartless words he endured. With a weak resolve and a battered soul, Narlyn nodded, allowing his mind and heart to endure his body's own transformation.

"Christoffel." Hanariel's mother sighed, tears of relief falling from her pain filled eyes as she wiped the tried blood from his forehead. The rustling pages ripped Hanariel from the scene and called his full attention to their words. His eyes quickly scanned their meaning. The book told him of Christoffel's life in the blood elf camp. They told of his full transformation from paladin of his father's people to a vengeful weapon of his mother's bitter hand. As time passed, his hair grew coal black, his skin a tanner shade of pale, his chin more pointed, and his eyes a sinister green. When the time came and his adoptive father met his vision again, he was completely unrecognizable. Christoffel lost both of his parents in the bloody battle that day, his mother at his father's hand and his father at his own blade. The area around his shifted so quickly that most would be unable to render the actions within. But through his deep connection to the tree, Hanariel was able to see all of the flashes in their entirety in the time it took to take a single breath. The book was nearly at its back cover when the scenes finally settled. Hanariel watched the final pages give their golden words as his body dwelled in a greenly-lit forest. He recognized the nighttime trees of Ashenvale, the same ones he traveled through to reach Mydrassil. Along the road, he saw his brother, laying in wait for any unsuspecting traveler. Hanariel's keen vision could see the tattered rags that draped his brother's starved and withdraw-aching frame. The fel poison forced on him had created a terrible hunger that overtook all else within the tragic elf. He had spent all of his resources to keep up with his unwilling habit, and in time his finances and resources were as dry as his thirsty veins. A figure came up the road. She was of female build and seemed to be nursing some vicious wounds on her face, neck and stomach. Hanariel instantly recognized the figure but before his mind could process the thought, Christoffel sprung from his spot in the bushes. His attempt to sap the night elf failed, earning him a quick strike to the stomach and nose. The night elf's counter attack sent him to his back. He struggled to stand again but a plated boot to his chest easily kept him down.

"Bad move, demon sucker." Shandori scoffed as she held the tip of her blade to his throat. "I'm not in the mood."

"D-Do it then." Christoffel rasped. The river water and few berries that kept him awake did little to provide the effort to care about his fate. He closed his eyes and prepared for the fatal strike. But as the seconds ticked by, the metal at his throat didn't move. Shandori could see how thin he looked, the bags under his eyes and the tremor that wracked his ravaged frame. Her keen hearing even picked up the not to faint sound of a hollow stomach crying.

"I'm not in the business of putting animals down. What the hell are you doing here anyway? This ain't your forest, Hordie."

"N-Not Horde, not horde…" Christoffel sighed, struggling to speak. The words caused Shandori to raise a brow and slowly move her canteen to his lips. He tasted the fruity hint of pomegranate, honey, strawberry, and blueberry in the mixture.

"This should perk you up. It's stolen from the snobbiest of the night elf nobility."

"T-Thank-"

"Oh no need to thank me. My mother would kill herself if she knew her favorite drink was going down the throat of an arcane junkie like yourself." She smugly spoke with a flash of glee in her eyes. Christoffel sat up and did his best not to suck the canteen dry. "Name's Shandori. Who are you Mr. 'not-a-horde'?"

"Ch-Christoffel Stingblade." He confessed the name his mother and his roguish teacher, Highraven, gave him.

"Well kuh-Christoffel, I'll make you a deal. It's not often people get the drop on me, especially at night. I'm… wandering around at the moment and could use some talented company. I'll get you fed and clothed if you agree to get me to Tanaris in once piece. Plus you sort of owe me for the juice. Sound good?" She offered. His dire situation and weakness left him no other alternative other than starving in the street. Just as his lips parted to answer, the book slammed shut with a pop. The scene melted away, leaving Hanariel where he began his journey: in the safety and comfort of his bedroom at Mydrassil. Hanariel's eyes went wide as he lifted his arm to find the book in the vision still clutched in his shaking hand. The bright glow within dimmed as the pages once again went blank. But the artifact, the glowing runes and the bright golden light that pierced through the blue-ness of his vision seemed muffled in the acute feeling in his chest. All of the visions, from the beginning were preparing him for that moment. Small tears of joy and relief came flowing down the outer corner of his eyes. He gave a soft husky laugh and quietly spoke.

"He's alive. He's alive…"


	22. Flea 22: Bananas

**Straydog Saga**

Flea 22: Bananas…

* * *

The dark-cloaked and masked woman strode through the sea of flowing white garments like a patch of night in a star-blind sky. Their sneers and glaring eyes seemed invisible to the glowing golden eyes that were once brown and spiteful. They saw far more than what was draped in lavish finery and tied to the light. But despite the wisdom and the power being bonded to Mydrassil afforded Keesha Hazzad, her heart was still driven to wildly beat by dark intentions. The Archmage's words stung in her ear like treacherous scorpions, pinching and poisoning her mind with fiendish desires.

When Keesha confronted the Archmage about the strange lessons and apparent plot, he made no attempt to question her, or accuse her in anyway. Seth simply smiled, nodded, and led her into one of his preferred side offices. The air within the office seemed unusually cold, causing Keesha to pull her conjured cloak around her slightly shaking shoulders. Though grateful for the conjured robes Seth gave her after the strange transformation, Keesha demanded an explanation as to why the plot was so carefully, almost manically executed. Seth did not answer right away. The pause left a profound silence between them as an unusually innocent smile came to his blue lips.

"It's simple. We cannot control the will of the tree, only present offerings. You proved through your cunning and wisdom to be worthy of its favor. I merely gave you a nudge here and there." He shrugged, moving to a small desk that always kept his favorite barrel-smoked beverage. It was rare and difficult to keep in the cold damp atmosphere; it only found its way to a glass when the occasion called for it. He filled two glasses half way before offering one to Keesha. She reached out, careful not to let the glass slip through her conjured-gloved fingers. The smell was strong but Keesha gave the required raise before tilting the liquid to her lips. At first it went down smooth but after a few moments, it seemed like dragon's breath would break through her gasping mouth. Seth smirked. "Too much for you? You'll get used to such fine things in time." Seth spoke before taking a long, even sip. He winced only slightly as he swallowed.

"So…that's why you asked for an apprentice? Trenton was being tested too?" Keesha asked. Seth knowingly nodded to the falsehood.

"Yes but, you proved more promising from the start. Natural talent I suppose. Still, he has his uses." Seth shrugged finally taking a seat across from the rune-skinned warlock. Keesha felt a tinge in her chest. She knew it was Trenton's dream to be Archmage Nightgaze's prized student. The look on her face made the highborne laugh. "Why so serious?"

"O-Oh it's just that, the kid really admires you. I didn't want steal his thunder…"

"It was never yours to steal or his to take in the first place. This is the work of Mydrassil itself. A clear sign of things to come…" he darkly chuckled. Keesha felt the hair on the back of her neck begin to slightly curl. She cast him a sideways glance.

"What do you mean?" Her voice lightly shook. The true darkness Seth had deftly kept in check slowly billowed from his features while his terrifying gaze still raged behind the controlled barrier.

"You've progressed further than any student before you. Even those who dwell above in their ivory Pinnacle can't lay claim the power you now wield. This could easily work in both our favor." He darkly smiled as Keesha shook her head.

"What are you talking about?"

"The roots have chosen you, Keesha. You are their herald, their master. You've gone beyond even my own abilities with the tree, you simply need practice. And once you've truly learned control over them and the power they offer, we can destroy those that would keep us in the dark forever." He nodded. Keesha could hear her own heart thumping in her ears. She questioned the words as Seth summoned one of his many scrying bowls on the desk between them. She concentrated for a moment and dipped one claw-finger into its depths. A swirling maelstrom of gold and while appeared within, slowly calming into a solid image. It was Han, crumpled over and shivering, muttering strange nothings. Keesha's eyes went wide at the sight but she quickly recovered, sending a sneering jibe at the trembling elf. Seth shook his head at the sorry sight.

"He was too WEAK. The branches drove the fool mad, now look at him: a little lamb waiting for the slaughter. I already have Whitedeer well in hand. All you need do is sacrifice that little creature and the tree and its secrets will be ours-"

"What makes you think I'd share?" Keesha blurted out; her face was as still and cruel as her station demanded. She prayed to whatever goodness still favored her that the snarling night elf did not notice the sound of her thundering chest. Seth seemed to choke on his own outrage, all niceties and calm heirs seemed to evaporate. Then she felt it: the gaze that made 100 demons pray for death was fully unleashed upon her. She sank to her knees, struggling to fight the magical sight that angrily sought to tear her to pieces. She grunted then let out a terrified but breathless scream.

"Ungrateful little WRETCH! I may not be one with the tree but you will NOT play that game with me!" The voice seemed to boom with unnatural strength, threatening to break her very will. The runes beneath the opaque black robes seemed to cut through the fabric as they strained to ward the warlock from the assault. With a strained growl, Seth pushed his anger back with mental chains, forcing the caged beast that was his hidden anger into the depths of his mind. Keesha felt herself exhale for the first time since she entered his presence. Seth cleared his throat.

"Now then. Since we have an understanding…" He went on and proposed his vicious agenda without pausing to offer a sign of guilt or hint of comfort to the trembling warlock. Keesha kept her act going as long as she could until she could barely stand to be in her own skin. She left the small space that had served as her launching point and couldn't seem to get to the portals fast enough. Keesha didn't notice the satisfied smile on the receding night elf's face nor the obedient servant leaving her hiding place in the tangled shadows. He turned his head softly spoke to the pale skinned and red lipped mage.

"Mind the shop; I have to go upstairs for a moment." He calmly spoke as if the great terror he had unleashed on the warlock never happened. Roxanne bowed deep and assured her master that things in the roots would proceed as normal. Seth closed his eyes, lifted his hand in casting, and with a deep red spark, the archmage was gone, leaving the smiling woman to her work. Keesha pressed on, racing thoughts traveling faster than her mortal feet could muster. The allure of power, the typical savory flavor of influence and dominance, all placed in front of her like a decadent feast. The starving warlock would have been all to ravenous in those words only a few short months ago but the power of the tree and her kinship with its second champion caused her to scurry away, bound for whatever glowing nook kept the ailing Hanariel. Guilt flooded her heart as thoughts of the priest turned mystic suffering in madness kept flashing in her vision. Keesha cursed herself for the selfishness she showed, never once thinking that the reason she was stood up was because her sweetheart was in any kind of pain. The path before her began to obscure as terrifying images of Han's demise coupled with Seth dooming gaze overtook her vision. She felt herself hit something tall, ornate, and solid before being propelled backwards and landing on her rear. Keesha hissed and looked to the person, who stood as if struck by a dark cloud, with an annoyed gaze.

"Get outta my way!" She snarled attempting to move past the barricade. The tall, red haired mage grabbed her by the arm and held fast. Keesha winced as she tried to pull away but found the red mage's grip to be unbreakable.

"Where are you off to in such a hurry, young lady?" Romulus asked with a raised red brow. He noticed the strange golden glow in her vision and the hint of glowing runes beneath her black hood.

"Let me go!" She pulled, finding that his other hand was now gripping her shaking shoulder. The look of indignation on his handsome face quickly turned to concern as he slightly loosened his grip.

"What's happened? Has someone hurt you?"

"You wouldn't believe me." Her voice trembled with desperation.

"I have no reason not to, miss. I can help you if you need it."

"Nightgaze he…" Keesha felt her heart leap as Romulus's grip suddenly tensed. She felt her bones strain under his terrible grip.

"What has he done, speak girl!" Romulus's voice shook as well as he gave a nod in apology and let Keesha go. She gingerly rubbed her arm and shoulder before looking into his racing vision.

"There isn't time, I need to find Han, err Hanariel Dawnblade?"

"Lady Whitedeer's ward?"

"Yes!"

"I know where he dwells, come! Explain while we move." Romulus commanded as he motioned for Keesha to follow. She quickly told Romulus of Nightgaze's plans. Each word seemed to make his face twist with revulsion. As they rounded a narrow passage, just before the dormitory where Hanariel was kept, something came from the floor and tripped the red mage. He steadied himself but quickly found a number of small twigs reaching up to snare him. Keesha stopped and tried to pry the matted web of branches and twigs that were quickly snaking their way around his thighs and waste.

"I-I can't…" Keesha shook her head and focused on an immolate spell as Romulus struggled to cast his own. But as he raised his hand to cast an arcane explosion, the branches swirled around his arm, freezing it in place. Keesha moved to cast her own spell, not stopping to ask why no branches seemed interested in her. She burned the surface of the strange wooden snakes but it did little else but singe them. Keesha focused her will on the branches, but did little more than if she were wishing at them.

"There's foul magic at work! His home is the third on the right, g-go, now!" Romulus gasped as the branches moved to forcibly silence him. Keesha didn't hesitate. She bolted to the rows of well carved birch doors until she stood before the third in their number on the right hand side of the row. As she moved to push, or kick the door in if necessary, a cool voice gave her pause.

"What do you think you're doing?" Orifiel asked. Keesha turned to see Lady Whitedeer in unusual garb. The white cloth armor seemed fit for a beer-brewing monk not a night elf priestess. Her large, hood like reindeer mask obscured her features, only allowing her painted lips passage into the seen world. Her long, birch staff hardly seemed menacing but glowed with a golden radiance. "You do not belong here, leave!"

"Lady Whitedeer, you have to listen! Han's in trouble."

"He is fine. Leave." Lady Whitedeer's tone was even but commanding. She knew the elf was communing with Mydrassil and any distraction could prove devastating to her plan. Keesha pleaded with her, tried to make her see reason as a few of the branches began to stir. The slithered to the steward's side as if awaiting a command. It was then Keesha realized who was responsible for turning the proud Romulus Redmane into a living statue.

"You, what the hell are you doing!"

"Final warning. Leave." Orifiel offered no explanation for her actions. A cool smile came to her face as her stance shifted from a neutral pose to one poised to strike. Keesha looked to the door for a moment, an obvious signal to the seasoned priest. At once the branches, like their root counterparts sprung to life. Keesha made an attempt to knock the door in before she was forced to flee. She dodged one of the branches, which seemed slightly slower than the vicious roots.

"Bitch is crazy!" Keesha grunted to herself as she deftly avoided what seemed like another inept attempt to impale her. She could not see the wonder and delight beneath the warden's mask. What seemed like slow, labored movements to Keesha were lightning quick to the normal adversary. Her golden runes glowed bright beneath her cloak as branch after branch took its turn. Each one seemed slower than the last, but Keesha fire and shadow spells seemed to have no affect on them. When one finally got a good shot in, Keesha raised her hand to block. She focused on the impact and, when a golden glow came from her open but tight fingered palm, Keesha felt the gap between her and the branch become as solid as stone. She held it there before pushing forward with all her will, snapping the branch back with the strike force of ten angry ogres and cracking it in two. The tip went sailing just over Orifiel's head; the warden made no movement to avoid the deadly projectile. The branches began coming in greater number, each to be deftly blocked, chopped and punched into splinters.

"Nightgaze taught you well. But the roots do not reach the Pinnacle Bough." Orifiel simply spoke.

"Nightgaze sent me to kill Han, sent me to kill you too if I could." The words made Orifiel snort. Keesha's felt her stomach fill with emotional stones.

"Laughable. But if you find my blood so alluring, I'll let you try." Keesha went wide eyed for a moment as she quickly tried to correct the miscommunication. But as the branches relented she found a very different assault meet her golden palms. Unlike the cumbersome branches their steward moved the heavy wooden staff as if it were made of paper. Keesha felt the golden cushion between the edge of her palm and the weapon grow dangerously thin with each windy blow. Keesha managed to grab hold of the end of the staff and gripped it with all her might. She brought it around in an attempt to twist it from Orifiel's grasp. Instead the strange warden leaped up, twisting with the staff until Keesha's awkward stance forced her to let go. The use of Keesha's strange new talents began to strain on her. Strikes she was just barely able to keep up with were sneaking their way through her golden defenses. Terrible welts found their way to her thigh and stomach until finally, she collapsed under the weight of Orifiel's attacks.

"S-Stop…I-I came to warn you…" Keesha struggled to sit up let alone stand. Her wounds stung and her lungs burned. All the while, Orifiel did not seem the least bit winded nor did a single drop of sweat appear beneath her fur-adorned mask.

"Liar. You came to harm my student, as you said." Orifiel spoke, trying her best not to crack a smile through the contrived and serious tone.

"I don't want to hurt him, he's weak, the branches are driving him nuts. Please let me in!" Keesha moved to try and stand only to be struck down again.

"Enough of this!" Orifiel spoke, raising her staff. She heard the shifting of branches behind her but paid them no mind. As she brought the staff down she felt the floor beneath her begin to shift. With a whirl of white wind, the steward felt her legs swept out from under her. Orifiel fell onto the floor as several snaking branches covered her form. "What?" Orifiel looked to where Keesha sat, a great white form looming above her. Keesha looked up with a gasp.

"H-Han, you're alright?" She asked, trying to ignore the taste of the blood that occasionally seeped through a small cut on her lip and onto her teeth. Once his long, telling vision had ended and the shock of his brother's fate wore off, Hanariel was drawn from the safety of his room by the sound of combat and the shifting of branches. Keesha noticed a brilliant golden glow had overtaken his previous blue sight. A strange golden tome hung at his side, quite similar to how a paladin would keep his or her libram. His normally placid features were twisted in anger as he lifted his hand. The Branches obeyed their master and lifted Lady Whitedeer to her feet.

"H-Hanariel, what are you doing? She means to kill you!" Orifiel's voice broke for the first time Keesha or Han had heard her speak. Han looked to the trembling warlock, whose eyes quickly told a far different story. He extended the only hand he had and helped his lover to her feet. Keesha quickly spoke about all that had happened. Hanariel drank it in like bitter medicine. He looked to Orifiel and shook his head.

"Keesha came to warn you but you could spare her a moment without judgment. Now I know why so many young ones turn to the darkness. The light burns that which it does not understand, or rather those who claim to know its will tend to." Hanriel spoke, heat rising in his cheeks. Orifiel seized his moment of weakness and gained control of the branches that bound her. Hanariel took a step in front of his battered mate with no weapon other than his will to use against a learned enemy.

"And what about you?" Orifiel asked with a voice free of malice. "You want me to believe that a student of demon binding can resist the power Nightgaze undoubtedly offered ? Control of the tree, its secrets? You would give all that up for the likes of him?" Orifiel motioned to Hanariel who seemed unfazed by the action.

"Give what up?" Keesha sneered, placing a glowing hand on Han's shoulder. "Think we can take her?"

"No, we're not alone." Hanariel looked to the wall, causing several branches to grow and strike at the area the arcane energy he sensed was concentrated. With a red clack, a tall haggard looking highborne materialized.

"You spoiled my grand entrance..." Seth Nightgaze sighed. Keesha instantly tensed. All her wounds and bruises seemed to vanish as the rush of anger and hate swelled up within. She focused on the energy around her palms and took a defensive stance.

"You hurt one hair on his vanilla head and I'll send you back to your tree-hugger friends in PIECES!" She shouted. Keesha growled as a self satisfied smirk came to Seth's face. Though what truly made her blood run cold was the look in his eyes. They were not full of the terrible power that tortured her nor were they holding the hint of anything sinister. Instead she found relief, calm, and if she was not mistaken, pride. With a wry smile he opened his lips to utter what would surely be the last thing Keesha and Hanariel would ever hear.

"Bananas." He simply spoke. Keesha tilted her ear closer to the smiling mage.

"Wait what?"

"Bananas?" Seth shrugged looking to the masked priestess with a questioning glance. Orifiel smiled wide.

"Ah, finally." Orifiel stretched, removing her own mask to reveal an equally happy face. "I don't have to talk in that stupid voice anymore."

"Indeed, that was getting quite old." Seth agreed. Keesha and Han, despite their amassed wisdom and strength both sported looks of sheer bewilderment.

"Wait, what the fuck, 'Bananas?' What bananas? What…" Keesha spoke with frustration and confusion fuming in her voice. They dumbly watched, mouths metaphorically dangling, as Seth walked over to where Orifiel stood and began, almost lovingly, picking the leftover leaves from her shoulders. "Wha…wha-WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON HERE!" Keesha shouted red faced and eyes glowing with confused rage. Han could only stammer, unable to add any better words to his own thoughts.

"Do you want to handle this?" Orifiel asked. Seth shrugged and began to address the newly confused pair of mystics.

"Bananas was the safety word," Seth cleared his throat, "Anyway, the two of us owe the pair of you an apology." Seth paused long enough to offer a formal bow. Hanariel looked to Keesha, hoping to quell her fury by explaining the seriousness of the action in Elvin culture. He was doubly shocked to see Orifiel following suit. When the elder pair rose again Seth continued his explanation. "When we each told you that you were being tested, the test did not end there. We had to be absolutely certain that your allegiances were in the right place. While our ruse is regrettable we both felt it was necessary and look at the result: a pair of mystics worthy of this place." Seth turned to see if his mate had anything to add. Orifiel cleared her throat.

"To clarify a few things: No I did not enjoy this mess you sadist," Seth smirked and stood a little straighter, "And the real reason for this is, well, there can't be just one High Mystic. I have a great affinity for the branches but not for the roots. Seth is the opposite. In order to find proper replacements we had to make sure those chosen by the tree had also chosen each other…"

"Replacements? I didn't sign up for that." Keesha spoke with a quieted tone but crossed her arms with a furrowed brow. Orifiel bowed her head.

"I know, but hopefully your bond to the tree will compel you to stay…"

"You mean you two were counting on that so your asses could pass off all your crap to us? Bullshit, we're outta here." Keesha turned to leave in a huff but found she was the only one moving. She turned to see Hanariel standing where he was. He did not seem to make a single movement to leave. "Han?" Keesha could see him visibly sigh.

"I'm not leaving."

"What? Han! Those two tricked us in some giant scheme. And you're going to stay? Why?" It was then Hanariel finally turned to face her. Orifiel and Seth were still present but were only shadows at their backs. They watched the exchange, their own breath seemingly caught in their chests.

"Keesha, I've never been much. An average son, average priest, and of my brothers I am the least in heroism and fortitude. Now I have a chance to stop being that and be SOMETHING for once, something none of my brothers ever dreamed of being. This tree holds so much power, I've seen it and it has shown me much that I needed to see. And I know we've only just seen the very outer bark. I guess they were worried about the wrong one…truth is I want to be admired for once, not pitied as a cripple or seen as some feminine outcast but respected, dare I saw worshiped like they were. It sounds bad and unwise but that is how it is, and I will take Orifiel's place and the title of High Mystic of the Branch. I-I would much prefer you guiding the roots more than anyone else. B-But I understand your outrage…" Han looked to her, using his honest and loving gaze to its fullest. Like a virgin casting out a possessing demon, Keesha desperately tried to argue her point. Any attempt at logic turned to frustrated hisses or growls beneath his loving sight. In the end Keesha relented and vowed to stay for his sake. She felt a warming in her chest. Her body followed suit as Han draped himself around her in a gentle embrace.

"I hate to interrupt but it is getting late and I'm sure lord Romulus would like someone to go free him?" Seth looked to Orifiel who gasped, wide eyed at the suggestion. She scurried off down the hallway to free her fellow Whitebranch Initiative colleague as he still stood petrified somewhere in the upper bough. Seth gave out a loud booming laugh. "Between the three of us, I like him better that way."

"Nightgaze, tell me something." Keesha muffled as she moved away from Han only enough to speak clearly.

"Anything."

"As High Mystic of the Root, I get control over how things are run down there, correct?"

"That is correct."

"So since I'm taking over for you, I get your office, your special magic rooms, and your hippogryph parking space?" She widely smirked while counting the coveted items off on her fingers as, for the first time since they'd met, Lord Nightgaze's face went a shade of pale.

"…yes? You were about to walk away from that two minutes ago and now you're kicking me out?"

"That's on you, not me." She shrugged. Han cast Keesha a stern look which caused her shoulders to sink and her haughty expression to humble.

"Oh alright he can keep the parking space…the office? Oh fine I'll just stay in my room for now, damn." Seth shook his head.

"Lady Whitedeer and I do not plan on staying long. We will move on when you two have gained enough knowledge of how things are run. Once you've been caught up to speed we'll make the announcement."

"Lord Nightgaze…there are many governments with a steak in this place. Are you so certain they will agree to this shift in leadership?"

"Lady Whitedeer and I will worry about that. You two worry about your lessons and meditations. Romulus will get you both up to speed on governing duties. Might I say, you do not know what this transition means to Orifiel and I. I am forever in your debt."

"Is the job THAT bad?" Keesha asked, eyes filled with mistrust and worry. Han smiled at the archmage. The subtle nicety and casual tone when speaking of the tree's steward spoke far more than the words before them. Keesha did not seem to pick up on the implication, but Hanariel attributed it to her straight-forward human upbringing. Seth chuckled and shook his head.

"I will explain it all to you…someday."


	23. Flea 23: The Gem That's Truly Outrageous

**Straydog Saga**

Flea 23: The Gem That's Truly Outrageous

* * *

Thrall grunted in his concentration. The energy that flowed from his tough green fingers, streamed pure and clean, into the massive gem. The troll shaman, Jango, stood nearby, tossing an occasional cooling spell to his leader's sweat-soaked form before turning back to his work.

"Are you alright? You can rest a while if you're tired." Violetina spoke in perfect orcish, a language that had graced her mouth for hundreds of years before she ever saw a human thanks to curious orc-children and innocent exchange. Thrall slowly turned to face his fellow shaman, whose own arms trembled under the weight of her spell work. Thrall felt an uncomfortable twinge zap through him. The draenei woman, whose youthful appearance gleefully masked her matronly age, looked to Thrall with honest concern in her glowing eyes. The dreadful feeling began to solidify in his veins. What his people had done, the sins of his father's generation seemed to roll off of her kind features, despite having lived through the horrific genocide. Vengeance never seemed to reach her even as the demon-tainted green-skinned monsters marched on, continuing the torture of her kind long after paving the path of glory with their sun-bleached bones. He gave a husky sigh and shook his head before replying in his second tongue.

"I am well; we will take a break soon." He gave a thankful nod and returned to his silent concentration. The massive stone before him gently hummed as its warders draped the protection of the elements around its shining mass like a safety blanket. The occasional soft light would offer some strange comfort before disappearing within a jagged edge as the gem slowly spun in place. When the shamans' arms began to buckle under the constant stream of energy they lost their concentration and reached for their usual sweat rags.

"How long we gunna be doin dese wards? My arms be da size 'ah tree trunks." Jango snorted as he moved his bulging arms to flex. Thelma softly laughed and shook her auburn-haired head as Jango winced from the jolt of pain in his upper body.

"Archmange Romulus will analyze our progress at the end of the week and we'll go from there. But for now, I think we all need a well-deserved drink." Thrall sighed. He led his team from the massive gem as the tightly woven branches of the Pinnacle Bough began to unravel, granting them passage into the less secure parts of the upper bough. Thrall cleared his throat and looked to the violet skinned draenei.

"Violet, may I speak to you in private for a moment?" He asked in orcish. She slowly nodded as the pair splintered from the rest of the shamans who seemed more concerned about finding a good place to cool their try tongues. The pair made their way to a secluded spot, away from the huddled clusters of priests and druids, before their conversation commenced.

"I'm concerned about something." Thrall confided to the honest-eyes Violet in a quiet tone. His old blue eyes darted around the small area, in case there were extra ears taking in his thoughts. Violetina tilted her head for a moment.

"What is it that is troubling you, sir?"

"You know the tree's warden from before, correct?" The question seemed to catch the shaman off guard. After a few moments of mental grasping, she held a response to her lips.

"Y-Yes. We met in Draenor, many years ago, why?" Violetina seemed cautious about the question, eyes casting their own query back to the elder orc.

"I see. I know she and Archmage Nightgaze were principle in killing the night elf betrayer. It is why I allowed our team to stay here so long. But something isn't right about this; tell me you've felt it too." Thrall spoke, eyes transfixed on an increasingly uncomfortable Violet.

"The energy of the gem is quite imposing, but anything sinister? I do not." She nervously smiled. Her twitching tail and slightly shaking eyes were not lost on her superior.

"Is there something you wish to tell me?"

"What do you mean?" She did her best to stay steady. What did Thrall know, what did he see or hear that would make him ask such a question. The secrets of her noble heart, things spoken in confidence could never be uttered, even if someone as great and as important as Thrall were to ask. His eyes seemed to cut through her like a fierce ray of light.

"I knew from the moment that we arrived that this place was filled with chaotic magic. I expected there to be some…anomalies. But this gem they're asking us to ward is something different. Did she ever mention its purpose to you?"

"Erm, Ori did say it was like a power dump. It sucks the raw energies out and purifies them to make sure there are no magical explosions and things like that. Lord Thrall, I know Ori very, very well. She would not go out of her way to hurt anyone, especially not with magic."

"I never said she would. And what you said is what I was told as well. But if that is the case, and it is truly rendering the energies innate then why must it then be warded? Something…smells amiss." Thrall shook his head and guided his vision and thoughts to the birch floor. His intuition rarely led him astray, aside from one glaring oversight that caused his most trusted friends to question his sanity and nearly splintered the Horde for good. But something gnawed at Thrall's gut like a slow worm. Something in those shining rays reflected from the massive stone seemed to speak to him and the words were different from ones spoken from mortals.

"I'm sorry sir; I'm not sure what to say. I-I haven't noticed a thing. Maybe I'm just not as perceptive as you think I am." Violetina spoke, trying to keep her voice from quivering like a leaf in the breeze.

"You don't need to say anything, Violet. I did not mean to sound accusatory. It could be my imagination…just keep your eyes and ears open." Thrall smiled giving the slender shaman a reassuring pat on the shoulder. She nervously smiled and gave a nod.

"I understand you just want to be cautious. This sort of power, even harmless power, in the hands of evil ones can be a danger. But I can say, with all my heart, that we have nothing to fear." She spoke with a solid tone. Thrall gave a half relieved sigh as he led his fellow shaman to the main path.

"You're probably right. I've found I'm quite quick to suspicion in my old age."

"Suspicion, wisdom? The are the same, I think." She smiled, a slight spring returning to her clacking step. When the reached the others they were greeted by several empty grog glasses and three bursting smiles.

* * *

"What's that one do?" Pashima asked as she pointed to a large gnarled claw adorned with colorful Senegal feathers. Ima finished chewing on a bit of bear bacon before replying.

"That fetish wards against sad thoughts. It's a parrot claw so it's supposed to grab your sorrows and make them fly away." Ima informed, remembering the day her mother taught her how to make if fondly. Herbert, the dancing Dryad's Delight plant, seemed to make a small yawning noise from atop Ima's orange-locked head before cuddling deeper into the fluffy depths. Ima smiled and reached to softly stroke its petals which were slowly changing color.

"Interesting. Ew! How about that one?" Pashima's investigating hand moved to point to another elaborate creation made of bat wings, a piece of naga spine, and a griffon's beak.

"That's a black-claw ward. Its supposed to protect us from night creatures and it also helps ward against possession."

"Oh I see. Can I have one?" Pashima innocently asked, before taking a sip of conjured cranberry juice. The colorful and finely made fetishes were like pieces of candy to her childish vision. "I don't mean to be greedy, they're just all so pretty!"

"Y-You like them? Sure pick out whichever one you like." Ima chirped with a spring in her voice. She had never met a non troll whose eyes marveled with such brightness at her crafting.

"Do either of you girls want another piece of bear bacon? Last call." Meryld informed from the small kitchen area while tossing a piece of bear bacon in an old but clean cooking skillet.

"No thanks Miss Meryld. I'm full. You might want to save some for the others when they wake up though." Ima laughed. Pashima nodded her head in agreement. Meryld gave a small smile before placing the last of the defrosted meat onto the skillet and leaving it on the small black stove before heading up the creaky staircase. As Pashima's hand moved over the small pile of fetishes her eyes focused one of them with a gasp. She pulled the blood red stone, encased in a gold setting with a long golden necklace chain attached from the pile of fetishes and began marveling at its brilliance. Ima gasped and reached for the object.

"Not that one!" She hesitated for a moment, stopping herself from talon-gripping the object out of Pashima's hands. Pashima pulled it away and buried it against her chest for a moment, eyes pleading to allow her to investigate further.

"What is it?"

"It's a gift, from someone really important to me. Have you heard of Archmage Romulus Redmane?" Ima asked, voice quivering at the mention of her idol. Pashima shook her head with no hint of excitement or emotion in her semi-pouting face.

"Who's he?"

"Only the most awesome, kind hearted, and weirdly handsome mage who ever lived!" Ima did her best not to squeak as she spoke.

"Is he a troll like you?" Pashima asked with an idle finger putting itself to work twirling one of her long pigtails.

"No, he's a human. I mean no offense to humans or anything but they're all small and flat-nosed and well, not my type. But I'd SO go pinky for Lord Romulus. He's just the best." Ima gushed extending her three-fingered hand to collect the glittering ruby. Pashima reluctantly gave the artifact up. Ima held it close to her chest with a blush coming over her full blue cheeks.

"So what makes him the best?" Pashima pouted, crossing her arms with a confused huff. Ima's eyes gained a wetness about them but no tears came as her mind slipped into rose-colored memories.

"Lord Romulus is the whole reason I'm a proper mage at a proper school. The mages at Dalaran won't accept someone like me so I um…acquired some special materials to make a potion that would make me look like a human so I could apply and study there. My proportions were a little off and I ended up a gnome, but it still worked and I got in. But just as I was about to set foot into my first class, Lord Romulus stopped me. He pulled me aside said "your tusks are showing miss!" I'll never forget that."

Ima paused to fully remember the scene. She used all of her sagely self control to keep from giggling as the image of his strong jaw and soft blue eyes came into her mind's vision.

"He said my potion work was impressive for someone with no formal schooling but any of the elder mages would be able to tell something was wrong with me. So he used his strong magic to better fortify my appearance. He said the potion and his booster spell would eventually wear off so he gave me a list of better quality ingredients to make a stronger potion next time, one that would only take a little bit of extra warding, which I can do myself. When I left to get summer work to pay for the reagents, or you know travel around to find them, he gave me this pretty jewel as a good luck charm. I'm certain it has some kind of charm or ward on it, but it's so subtle I can't really tell." Ima said, resisting the urge to cuddle it to her bosom. Pashima tilted her head, eyes seeming only slightly impressed by the tale.

"Sounds like a nice man." The young draenei shrugged as her eyes whipped to one of the smaller fetishes. It was made of broken dragon scales that seemed to shimmer different hues of red, blue and violet. The scales were tied together using thin gold-colored wire and made for an attractive bracelet. "This one!" She plucked it from the pile and, with a big smile, worked her hand through the jingling bracelet.

"It suits you!" Ima smiled as she placed her own treasure around her neck before putting the charms back in their usual hip bag.

Meanwhile, Meryld found the top of the creaky old steps to be deserted. She stopped to look around for a moment, old ears straining to hear faint sounds of the living within the slumbering hallway. She came to the first door and gave a gentle knock. She moved it open slightly, eyes to the floor in case the room's occupant was in an awkward state of dress.

"F-Bomb?" She asked, lifting her eyes when the sound of nothingness reached her. She found the room completely empty and shrugged making her way to the next room, figuring that the middle-aged goblin had slinked off to town or to the hot spring. She followed suit with the next room. A small, amused smile came to her face as the sound of medium volume snores drifted in the mid morning air. Draped in monstrously colorful bed sheets, a comforter, and what looked like lavishly decorated shams, were a pair of slumbering but fully clothed elves. She took another step in to view the rare sight, familiar warmth entering her old heart. Chris was on his back, legs hanging over the side of the bed with Shandori, crumpled up in a fetal position beside him with one arm draped across his chest. Meryld shook her head, toying with the idea of waking them but decided to allow their sleepy hearts to enjoy the caring moment the waking world would surely destroy. She closed the door as quietly as she could before coming to the final room. She gave the same gentle knock but did not open the door.

"Lady Shadowsong, are you awake?" A weak moan was her reply. "Lady Shadowsong?" Meryld hesitated a moment, not wanting to disturb her fellow elder but something in the weak moans that seemed to come with every breath caused her arms to tremble. She quickly opened the door to see the once proud and lithe huntress and warden crumpled onto the floor. Meryld rushed to her side, smoothing Maiev's hair for a moment and checking for any signs of injury.

"Maiev, what happened?"

"F-Fell…" Maiev coughed. An apparition in the night ran its clawed hands on her dreams. She tried to fight the night-terror but its grip was too strong and she felt her breath leave her. Her physical soreness and her aging muscles cried out as she fell onto the floor with a sickening thud. The chill of the night caused her whole body to tremble.

"Can you stand?"

"I-I don't…don't know."

"Wiggle your toes for me." Meryld calmly but firmly asked. Maiev managed to comply despite the numbness in her tiny appendages from the cold. When Meryld saw the movement beneath Maiev's worn socks she moved to scoop up the taller elf. What would have taken a few seconds in her brown haired days; she felt the sweat began to form beneath her grey brow. "Damn, I'm too old for this." Meryld sighed and as much as it made her growl in annoyance she allowed her human form to shift into her more lupine appearance. She lifted Maiev up with less strain and began walking her to the door. The smell of over cooked bear bacon assaulted them both. When Meryld got Maiev to the bottom of the steps Meryld shouted to the pair of youngsters to tend to the potential mess while she made her way to the back door. The brisk air caused Meryld's gray fur to stiffen as she did her best to both cover Maiev's shivering form and pull her along towards the refreshing hot spring.

"I-I think I can walk." Maiev's pride swelled as her feet struggled to support her. The pain in her legs and back caused her to wince with every excruciating step.

"The spring will fix you right up. Me and F-bomb spent a few hours there the other day, didn't prune up or anything…well not like I can get any more prune-like…" The small joke brought a smile to Maiev's face.

"Age is a terrible thing…" She sighed, eyes darting too and from the grey fur and wrinkled skin beneath her companion's youthful resolve. Since the night elves lost their immortality, the eldest among them felt the lost in their joints, skin, and failing organs.

"It's not so bad. Sure you look like an old sack, your bones break, muscles cease up on you, joints explode when it snows or rains, things that stayed in one place shift around like an old tarp…"

"And there's an up side in there somewhere?"

"I'm getting to it! I'm getting to it…" Meryld chuckled, pulling Maiev's arm a little further over her broad back to straighten the stumbling night elf. "I'd rather be old and smart than young and stupid. Take those two elf-kids for example. I want smack some sense into them sometimes." Meryld rolled her eyes and motioned with her muzzle back towards the cabin.

"What about them?"

"They need to get it done and over with."

"I do not follow." Maiev spoke with a raised brow was Meryld struggled to focus on the path before her and think of the appropriate words.

"You see how they act with each other. It was cute at first but now it's just annoying to watch." Meryld snorted. Old memories, long left dusty and rotting in her mind seemed to shake to life. Meryld closed her eyes tight and willed them away.

"Romance between Kaldorei and Sin'dorei is an abomination. They know that. You cannot expect them to act so freely. Would you if the person you had affection for was, was an orc?" Maiev shook her head, doing her best not to stumble in the snowy path.

"No, he wasn't an orc…" Meryld sighed as the sight of the small hill that marked the hot spring's location put a little more spring in her step.

"Oh?"

"Let's just say I was young and stupid with a man too. Well several men…but that one in particular didn't work out too well. Ah, we're almost there." Meryld grunted, shifting Maiev in her grip. When the hot spring's steamy pools came into view, a small green spec in a yellow bikini was there to greet them.

"Hey you two! Took ya long enough." F-Bomb smiled, raiding what looked like a glass of tropical drink adorned with a pine apple and cherry umbrella.

"Good morning, F-Bomb. Where'd you get that?" Meryld asked, helping Maiev into a sitting position.

"That's a secret that ain't worth sharin'. I can get you a glass if ya want though." She smirked as she took a long sip through a bright pink curly straw. Meryld shook her head.

"Not THIS early in the morning. Where are the towels? Maiev here needs a dip."

"In the shack where they always are. It's open." F-Bomb said, motioning to a small, dilapidated structure that seemed more like an outhouse than a storage shed. The three older women enjoyed a morning of relaxation and promised rejuvenation as Maiev's aching muscles and the hidden injuries seemed to wash away with the bubbling clear water.

* * *

Romulus didn't know whether to smile or cry. The roots dug their way into his person, encasing him in a wooden shell. Though, as they always seemed to, the terrible rips and tears in his flesh healed but they left great bruises behind. When he returned to his sleeping quarters, his usual perfumed entourage was there to greet him. His first lover, a lovely blond human woman named Undel, rushed to prepare a hot bath while his second and third lovers, a pair of pale blue-haired night elf twins named Duelle and Twana, carefully helped him undress. The last of his lovers, a gorgeous red haired Quel'dorei girl named Kat, readied herself in his bed.

"Who did this to you?" Duelle asked with worry and fright in her vibrant-glowing eyes.

"Never mind. Help Undel with the bath." He softly commanded. Duelle bowed her head in apparently apology as she scurried off towards the bath. Kat watched with a small frown as Romulus kicked the remains of his fine red robes away, nearly nudging Twana as she moved to collect them. "I'm sorry." He sighed.

"No my love, you didn't mean it." Twana smiled as she gathered the fallen garments.

"Would you like me to join you?" Kat asked with no hint of emotion in her rose-silk voice. Romulus paused for a moment before giving a small snort.

"If you can keep your hands to yourself. I'm a bit sore tonight." He smirked and began walking into the lavishly decorated bath area. The bath itself was far larger than many seen in the homes of Mydrassil. Not even Orifiel with her post and standing had a bath pool that was large enough for four. Undel rushed to apply the various sweet smelling bath oils and remedies as Romulus touched his big toe to the water.

"It's too cold, please make it a little warmer." He gently commented, causing Undel to move forward with incredible speed to adjust the hot water knob. Duelle, all the while, watched as she reached into a small cabinet and prepared a pair of fine clean robes upon their exit.

"Picky tonight, aren't we?" Kat crossed her arms and gave a bitter smirk to her shared lover. He did not move to reply. When the water was to his liking, Romulus and Kat entered the soothing water, leaving the other three to tend to their beloved's laundry.

"I'm really not in the mood for your attitude tonight, Kat." Romulus sighed, entering the bath and allowing the water to rise just above his waste.

"Then you should choose one of your more…dutiful concubines to bathe with you." Kat suggested with a slight sneer, softly tracing a long slender finger across his taught shoulder. Her soft pink lips and pale blue eyes were intoxicating and even the surly-mooded Romulus began to soften in their wake.

"They're better served with domestic tasks for now. It would be rude of me not to pay attention to my latest addition, would it not?" Romulus asked, reaching for his favorite soft-scrubber. Kat stopped the motion, lightly gripping his wrist before claiming the object for herself. His brow furrowed at her insolence but the heat within from her lurid actions with the scrubber quickly cut through the outrage.

"I suppose that's true. Mother would not be pleased with me if she thought I didn't perform my duties adequately." Kat dryly spoke as she washed herself.

"Please don't talk about her while you're doing that." Romulus shook his head and claimed a lesser cleaning towel and washed the sweat from his face.

"I'm sorry, making you uncomfortable am I?" She said moving a little closer to her lover. Romulus, despite his previous warning, made no motion to move away.

When their time in the sinful bath was done, Romulus and Kat rejoined the three other women and prepared for bed. The three women tended to Romulus's grooming needs, brushing through his long red main, trimming his facial hair, clipping his finger and toe nails, among other hygienic tasks. Kat merely dried herself off, styled her own hair accordingly and took her usual place in bed. She faced away from the activity, blue eyes lazily scanning the surface of the nightstand beside her. A soft red hum from within the top drawer brought her attention to full focus. She slowly moved to open the dark wood dresser drawer to find bright red light bursting form within.

"What is that?" Romulus moved to turn, causing Twana to hurry in her comb-work. He saw Kat sitting, robe removed, in his bed with a small red-gem necklace in her soft hand. "By the Titans!" Romulus moved, shifting his robe as he walked to where the sensual elf sat. She moved to show him the gem with a raised brow as he quickly took it from her grasp. After a few moments of magical scanning, a great, white-toothed grin came to his face.

"Finally, she took it out of that damn bag, haha!" Romulus cheered with a loud clap, careful not to catch his palm on the intricate metal frame on the setting.

"Who?"

"The one who's going to get our plans back on track…"


	24. Flea 24: Shadow over Zin'Azshari

**Straydog Saga**

Flea 24: Shadow Over Zin'Azshari

* * *

The great meeting hall was alight with activity. The great oval table in the center of the room was long on people of great influence, spanning thousands of years of heroism in the world of Azeroth and beyond. Some faces were seen at the very beginning of the tree's naming. Others, who were kept at bay by the neutral forces, sat at the table for the first time and awaited the spectacle. Orifiel looked to the group before standing with a small smile.

"Thank you all for coming. I realize there are some new faces," She paused to look and smile at a stern faced but trembling shouldered younger human of about 30 years of age sitting in his father's seat and the ever contemplative orc shaman beside him, "So for their sake we shall all conduct a brief roll call. I am Orifiel Whitedeer, leader of the White Branch Initiative and co-planter of the tree." Orifiel sat and motioned to her right side to continue.

"Seth Nightgaze, co-planter of the tree and head assistant to Lady Whitedeer." Seth quickly spoke before nodding to the person to his right. The golden-haired Quel'Dorei woman smiled to the human across from her, in hopes the action would somehow put him at ease.

"Vareesa Windrunner of the Silver Covenant. I am here representing the interests of both Dalaran and the Argent forces." She nodded, smile brightening a little, to the person next to her. The once banished paladin was scorned and exiled for his sympathies to an elder orc then exalted in his Argent Crusade quietly accepted his turn to speak. His aged body was failing but the light and his great spirit overtook his wrinkled skin and brittle bones. He attempted to sit up a little straighter, Vareesa moving to help. The paladin held a hand to stop her and slowly lifted him self up.

"Tirion Fordring. Leader of the Argent groups." His voice was slightly slurred by the numbers on his curved back but his pride would not allow the sound to falter. He gave a small nod to the next person at the table. The blood-dressed mage gave a cold but polite nod to Tirion before speaking.

"Archmage Aethas Sunreaver, representing The Sunreavers and Dalaran's interests." He motioned to the one who sat at the opposite end of the oval table. The figure, who sat tall but still humble in his seat of honor politely bowed his antlered head before speaking.

"Archdruid Malfurion Stormrage, representing the Cenarian efforts." Malfurion smiled as the corner of his golden eye picked up a bright emotional beam coming from the young human who sat a few spaces away. He motioned for the tiny figure beside him to give her introduction. She cleared her throat.

"I'm Geena Washina Uvina Foggybottom. Call me Foggy. I'm representin' the interests of the Bilgewater Cartel end of the White-Water trade agreement. My star-sign is Scorpid and I enjoy sushi dinners, accounting, romance novels, and trips to the cape." Geena chirped in an attempt to cut through the nervous energy beside her. The human nervously cleared his throat and slowly moved to stand on trembling legs.

"I-If I may, I would like to extend a sincere apology from my father. He'd been waiting for an invitation, but he cannot be here today due to matters of state. F-For those of you who do not know me, my name is Anduin Wrynn. I'm here to represent the interests of The Alliance, mainly Stormwind. T-Thank you." Anduin blushed slightly and took his seat. Vareesa softly clapped for him but quickly stopped the motion as the next great figure began his introduction.

"I am Thrall. I am here to represent the interests of the Earthen Ring and the forces of the Horde." Thrall cast a glance to the smaller, less weathered human beside him, resisting the urge to snort at the seating arrangement. Had it been Anduin's hot-tempered father in the younger man's place, Thrall wondered if his seat placement would have been the same. The last to speak was Romulus who gave a friendly nod to Archmage Sunreaver in return for a warmer smile from his fellow mage before conducting his introduction.

"Best for last I suppose. Hello again all. I'm Archmage Romulus Redmane and I am chief of operations here. Um for those who don't know I monitor all major activities and projects here, and I ensure contract work stays on track." He winked to Anduin who felt an uncomfortable lurch in his stomach from the small gesture. When introductions were over, Orifiel nodded in acknowledgement, stood, and walked towards an empty space behind her seat at the table. She closed her eyes and motioned to the floor. Several pairs of eyes marveled as great branches snaked up and formed a woven circle. Several large rose-colored flowers bloomed, spearing a thick mist within the circle. One of the flowers turned a bright blue, triggering a shift in the mist. The image of a massive gem appeared within the circle of branches as it slowly rotated in its typical place.

"What's that?" Anduin spoke before he was able to stop himself. His marveling eyes went wide at the improper mistake but the kindly look on Orifiel's face brought no punishment.

"This is our top project, our power repository. This gem has severed as a vital stabilizer within the tree as it takes in the arcane-laden water. Our mages and druids have found that as the tree has moved from the sapling to adult stages, the power fluctuations have become far less erratic, therefore once this item is properly warded, a second power gem will not be necessary. Our light-workers have ensured that no dark energy has permeated the gem or the surrounding area." Orifiel paused for a moment as a large green hand slowly went up. "Yes Lord Thrall?"

"What will become of this great stone once the process is over? Where will it reside?" He asked. Orifiel seemed to pause for a moment. Thrall's perceptive blue eyes scanned for any falsehood behind the calm purple mask. While Orifiel did seem to stumble, Seth managed to recover the falling question.

"The gem itself will remain in the Pinnacle Bough until we have a proper means to dispose of it. While the power within is rendered inert by the formation process the magical and natural wards are not. I know Dalaran has interest in studying the gem and, Lady Whitedeer correct me if I'm wrong, but once this project is over the mages and druids will be invited to stay under official clearance, correct?"

"That is correct. We simply don't want it going to any faction especially since we haven't fully explored its damage potential. While we know much about its construction, arcane magic can be very volatile. That being said, I wont be 'kicking anyone out' of the tree." Orifiel offered. Thrall's eyes closed with a satisfied nod as the image in the strange branch circle shifted to lesser initiatives. Orifiel took her seat and allowed Romulus to give his operations report. There were no further interruptions through the mundane happenings and functions of the tree. When Romulus was finished, he took a seat and gave the floor to Seth. He stood silent a moment before addressing the table.

"I'd like to thank you all again for making the journey here. We would like the express that, in our time in this strange place we have learned much about the tree and its mysteries. We have done our best to keep you all informed as a sincere effort to ensure all peoples of Azeroth know we are not establishing a nation, nor a bastion for either side of this world war. But this knowledge, this insight from Mydrassil was always limited. Our meditations always seemed contained, as if we were studying the ocean in a fishbowl. While Lady Whitedeer and I have gained a strong affinity for the tree…we will never be able to explore it fully." Seth shook his head as small whispers seemed to slither around the table like a waiting viper. "But what the White Branch Initiative has worked for carries on and there are those who have gone leaps and bounds beyond our wildest expectations. We shall end our meeting today with one, great proposal." Seth bowed to Orifiel who stood with a serene smile.

"Mystics. Until now, they were nothing more than a classification, a label for those of great vision. But through Mydrassil's power, two true mystics have arisen. While they are still growing in knowledge of their abilities and life in Mydrassil…I can proudly say that as individuals there are very few alive of better quality. I propose to you all that the tree be led by those IT chooses. And it has chosen well." Orifiel looked to the looks of shock and confusion and waited for the bravest among them to question her. A single white-gloved hand rose.

"S-So you're saying you're handing all this over to someone else? But I thought this was your home…" Anduin asked, once again cringing a little in anticipation of punishment.

"Yes, it does seem an odd thing to do." Tyrion's voice came to bolster more than the younger prince's confidence. The question seemed to echo on the lips of those who sat.

"This tree was only ever meant to be a memorial to my mother. With Lord Nightgaze's help, I was able to create a pocket in the sea where her home used to be in the great city of Zin'Azshari. Looking back I should have known better than to plant a seed of Teldrassil in such a strange and magic-soaked place. But here we are: horde and alliance, holy and arcane, druid and mage sitting here and I don't see a single drop of blood. We have found two who would continue that tradition and allow the full potential of the tree to be known where we are not able to tread. I will still remain in the tree until I am sure the pair will be able to run things on their own. All our standing treaties and agreements will not be affected. Does this transition agree with you all?" Orifiel asked, face looking for comment.

"So you're expecting us to accept two people we've never heard of, these "Mystics" to take over control of a great source of power? How can we be sure they WILL continue to remain neutral?" Aethas Sunreaver asked with no attempt to politely hide his skepticism.

"Yes, who exactly are these two? How can we be certain of their character?" Vareesa added. Orifiel looked to Seth for his non-verbal opinion. He gave his input in a supportive nod and a slight wave of his clawed hand.

"The first is one known well to the Argent Crusade. He has fought many battles against the undead and worked as a priest for over 50 years. His gentle soul and accepting heart goes well beyond the typical light-worker. He has moved passed prejudice and mistrust of the darkness. The second herself is born of shadow. A former warlock, she has delved into the very pit of depravity and evil. But when her power was taken into the heart of Icecrown Citadel, she helped usher the light of a new dawn. Now the darkness that dwells within does not hunger for the end of the light, but rather to surround it making it brighter than the sun." Orifiel smiled as the group struggled to think of names among the thousands who had done such feats.

Vareesa and Tirion exchanged glances, her questioning eyes looking for any clue in his weathered face. Soon his dull eyes contained a spark of recollection. There were several of the demon-class who offered him their service. Through their deeds they had even held high esteem among the ranks of his Argent Crusade. But there was one who stood out. The warlocks tender age coupled with her great abilities brought her great renown, and those elders who challenged her soon found themselves regretting it through vicious curses and burns. And her name, which had been snuffed from official history, was forever engraved in his mind.

"Young Keesha? She is here?" Tirion spoke with a mist in his voice. He looked to Orifiel with a strange shine in his eyes. Orifiel smiled and nodded.

"Yes, Keesha Hazzad has proven herself as a High Mystic of the Root." She replied. Tirion turned to look at the spot in front of him as a wave of images from that terrible battle came to him. He remembered the first time he had met the young, fiery warlock. She had vengeance in her heart and venom in her words. Even the death of the Lich King did not seem to quell the hatred that seemed as much a part of Keesha as her own blood.

"If I may be so bold, and I mean no disrespect to you my lady, but Keesha Hazzad is a maverick. She is driven by nothing more than her own vengeance and hatred. Unless…things have changed, how did you come to this decision?" Tirion asked, eyes grasping for a logical answer. Orifiel bowed to him, accepting his sincerity, as Seth raised his hand to speak.

"We did not choose these individuals lightly. We've conducted a series of extremely controlled and rigorous tests on both mystics. I personally oversaw Keesha's lessons and during that time gave her several opportunities to give in to temptation as it were. She rejected those offerings without hesitation. She and the other mystic work seamlessly and we foresee no issues in regards to fairness among the various groups or their interests." Seth spoke, negating to mention Keesha's overt, almost allergic reaction to members of the Horde.

"What about this other mystic? You say he's well known to us but I can't think of a priest who…no, no i-it can't be." Vareesa's eyes went wide for a moment as her face seemed half's smiling half gasping at the notion of the young, meek, and heart-torn youngling she allowed permission to dwell in the great tree. Vareesa's heart triumphantly leaped as her words evoked a big smile and enthusiastic nod from Orifiel.

"It is. The second mystic, High Mystic of the Branch, is Hanariel Dawnblade. I must say I underestimated him myself but if you placed a crow-pie in front of me I'd gladly eat it." Orifiel's smile waned a little as a scoffing snort came from somewhere towards the end of the table. Aethas Sunreaver crossed his arms before thinking of polite words to mask his bitter outrage.

"So a human and a Quel'dorei are chosen? Who's to say once they gain control of the tree and the gem they won't just hand it over to Alliance?" His point made the goblin and orc at the table slowly nod. Orifiel quickly spoke up.

"If that were my intention it would have happened already and no one with any connection to the Horde would be sitting at this table." Orifiel insisted. The power and calm will in her words seemed to quiet any further comment on the issue. But in the growing tense silence, it was the great antlered night elf, whose eyes had seen the sundering and whose will helped stop the destruction of the world, who calmly spoke.

"While our input is valuable and all our concerns valid, when the sun has set it is Lady Whitedeer's decision. She has allowed our groups into the inner-most parts of the tree. I think if there were ill intent, for either side, we would have detected it by now. She has given this council, this dream-walker no reason not to doubt your judgment. All I would ask is to meet these mystics, as you call them. It would do us all well to become familiar with our future allies." Malfurion humbly smiled. It took every measure of self control Orifiel had not to beam like a 15 year old girl. She gave Malfurion a look of profound thanks before looking to Seth with a question in her eyes. He slowly shook his head.

"At this time both Mystics are in their lessons or meditations. But I highly doubt either would be opposed to meeting such great people as are at this table. If you are able to stay longer, we would be more than happy to prepare proper rooms for you all. It would be no trouble, right?" Seth looked to Orifiel for an approving nod, which she seemed all too eager to give. Romulus resisted a sigh as a great deal of work may have been put on his shoulders. While many at the table had more pressing engagements or little real interest in the tree's happenings, Malfurion, Vareesa, Anduin, Aethas, and Thrall seemed all too eager to meet the mysterious Mystics.

The meeting adjourned on a far easier note than anticipated. All prepared arguments and rebuttals were tossed into the wind as Romulus ran to his office to locate free rooms for their guests while the 6 remained to chat and ask more questions that were considered less formal and inappropriate for a council meeting. When Romulus returned with his aids to escort their honored guests to their chambers, Malfurion asked to remain for a few moments to chat with the tree's planters. Obliged, Malfurion was taken to a more private room where he was offered food, drink, and further thanks for his intervention.

"They were honest questions. We should have prepared better." Seth admitted, as he gave a thanking nod to one of the servants who presented their meal of finger foods and white tea.

"Well we can only be so transparent…" Orifiel sighed taking a bite of a human delicacy: a small sausage wrapped in pastry and garnished with a sweet tomato paste.

"Agreed…they would not like it very much if everything was revealed." Malfurion admitted, his own knowledge of the tree's purpose extending far beyond any other guest at the council table. "What is the status of your…'confidential' project?" Malfurion curiously shrugged as he sniffed one of the sausage pastries before taking a bite.

"Nearly finished. Once the wards are fully in place, we can deliver the gem to their forces as soon as possible. Question is what will they do with it?"

"I am unsure. But once it's done, my lady, you will have your reward I'm sure of it." Malfurion smiled at the prospect though the strange taste in his mouth left him wondering whether or not he should continue to consume the strange human treat. His heart softened a little at the look in Orifiel's eyes. The longing and sadness within caused Seth to grasp her hand beneath the table. Malfurion lightly laughed and shook his head.

"You know neither of you need to be so discrete with me. Though you may need to be careful around my druids, they're starting to suspect." Malfurion shook his great bearded head with a sigh.

"Do you really think they'll be able to help me? Do you think they'll honor their promise?"

"If they don't I'll rip their lungs out, and feed them to them…"

"Seth, what have we talked about?"

"I know, I know. But it isn't as if I need to hide my nature here. Lord Stormrage knows how I am." Seth shrugged causing Orifiel to roll her eyes.

"In any regard, I would like to do a personal inspection of the deep roots, if it's all the same to you. I have my own reports to give. But for now I would like some time to meditate…"

"I'll take you to your quarters then. Let me know when you'd like to conduct the inspection and I'll take you down." Seth stood and bowed to the antlered hero. When the pair left for Malfurion's chambers. Orifiel was alone in the great meeting hall to quietly savor the first step in their victory and the remaining sausage-in-blankets in calm contemplation.

* * *

Keesha felt a new fire in her stomach. Nightgaze gave the empowered mystic the lease to the lower half of the tree, only negating one small part in the dankest depths. He insisted that it was a place of the dead, the actual memorial to Orifiel's mother and only those she allowed to see the shrine would go below. Keesha walked around the leaky corridors with a hand-drawn map, marking the roots that needed tighter weaving. She checked off a large, dripping section when a solitary pair of footsteps stopped just a few steps behind.

"What are you doing?" The red haired mage asked, placing a delicate hand on her thin hip. Keesha turned to see the lovely woman, a high elf, staring at her with a raised manicured brow. Keesha had seen the mage from time to time, but only in passing. She scowled at the tone and scathing gaze.

"Marking leaks, what's it look like?" Keesha shot back with a wave of attitude. The mage crossed her arms, nose raised, before uttering an indignant huff.

"We've done our best to keep the roots together. If you don't like it down here, you don't have to stay." She sharply spoke. Keesha's annoyance moved into an air of smugness as she shook her head. She turned to face one of the loosely woven roots. Keesha closed her eyes for a moment and concentrated. The golden runes on her forehead and hands began to shine as the roots themselves began to twitch.

"What in the world?" The mage marveled as the roots began to twist more tightly, forming a solid barrier against the endless sea of droplets. When Keesha was done, the dank wall finally began to dry. "How did you do that?"

"Mystical power, sweetpea."

"My name's Kat actually…" Kat spoke, trying not to grind her teeth.

"Keesha. Nice to meet you." Keesha extended her hand. Kat took it and gave an unsure but friendly shake.

"Oh, Keesha! You're the lady Romi was talking about." Kat spoke before her thoughts could stop her.

"Romi? Oh you must be one of HIS girls then…" Keesha surmised with a small smirk. There had been whispers about the nature of Archmage Redmane's relationship with his lead mages but Keesha did not bother to speak them. The slightly blush and indignant look on Kat's face was enough of a response. "What are you doing down here with the scum and villains?"

"Well I was on my way to deliver a message to Lord Nightgaze but he informed me you would be the one I am to report to from now on…" Kat resisted a sigh as she handed the note to Keesha who tucked it beneath her leak-map. "You may want to read it now…"

"I'll read it when I get to it." Keesha turned from the high elf, who's red face seemed as if it was about to burst. She swallowed her pride and any snide words that may have flooded out of her full red-painted lips.

"But it's the results from the council meeting, surely you'd like to be aware of their decision…"

"I don't give a damn about no council. You see these walls, they need fixing. And those portals to the trunk are FLICKERING damn it. What have you people been doing down here all this time?" Keesha ticked, trying to keep her annoyance from flooding her attacking runes.

"Excuse me, my _lady_, but we have been diligently tending to the matters of the roots long before you set you black-clothed foot in this place." Kat sneered, making a veiled reference at Keesha's former profession.

"Yeah and from day one I thought the place needed work. I'ma see that the work happens, on time, and to my liking. You got that, cupcake?" Keesha gave a toothy growling smile, almost daring the gorgeous mage to give her an excuse to put a few bruises on her perfectly formed face.

"U-Understood, my lady." Kat nearly choked on the words but managed to get them out of her system. She gave a polite but forced bow before turning and walking away as fast as her legs could travel. Keesha darkly chuckled.

"Oh, I'ma like this gig. I'm going to like it a llllot." She shook her head and continued down the corridor. All of the loose ends that could be quickly tied were deftly strung with care. The edges of the window that allowed the mages a glimpse into the shadowy abyss were illuminated by glowing arcane gems she'd learned to craft in one of her lessons. When Keesha got to the main hall another mage gained her attention. This time, the pale-skinned human was greeted with a smile and a sigh of relief.

"Oh hi there Roxanne, what do you got for me?"

"I'm sorry to disturb you, Lady Hazzad."

"Its Keesha."

"Ok, Keesha. I just coming back from lunch and I ran into Lord Dawnblade on the way back to the roots, he's looking for you in the trunk." Roxanne informed. Keesha's eyes went wide for a moment.

"What time is it?"

"About half past one in the afternoon."

"Shit." Keesha hissed as she tucked the map and announcement beneath her arm. "I was supposed to meet him for lunch an hour ago."

"Yes, he asked me to fetch you. He'll be waiting at the "ribs place" he said."

"Alright, I'm headed up there now. Thanks Roxanne, keep an eye on things for me, will you?" Keesha gave a thankful nod before heading to the flickering portals leading to the upper part of the tree. She arrived, with a slight feeling of nausea in her otherwise steady stomach in her usual place just outside the trade and restaurant districts. When she arrived at their favored restaurant she found Han quietly sitting at the small table for two they had become so accustomed to. He twirled a small glass of white wine with the menus still resting before him.

"I'm sorry I'm late, I lost track of time. Please tell me you ate something." Keesha asked, bravado and carefree attitude falling away like a slowly wilting rose. Han smiled and motioned for her to sit.

"I wasn't all that hungry today anyway. You should try this wine though, it's quite nice." He offered, extending his glass to her. Although the few times she bothered with the fruity beverage, the vintage had been a much darker shade, the sensation and taste was enough to cause a small smile and a second sip.

"You're right it is."

"I'll order a bottle then." Han offered as he moved to pass one of the two menus to the dark mystic. "I'm late for my daily mediation anyway so I was thinking; why not celebrate our new status."

"Haah, way ahead of you on that one. Still you shouldn't blow off your meditation because I was late. Couldn't you do one later?"

"I prefer to meditate a little after one in the afternoon but I could always try later this evening. Would you like to join me?" Han suggested with a sly boldness in his voice. Keesha smiled a little, playfully fanning herself with her menu for a moment before their usual smiling waitress came for their order. The pair enjoyed a filling dinner of Keesha's favorite ribs and cornbread supplemented by Han's tasty soup. When all that was left were picked-clean bones and empty wine glasses, the pair paid for their meal and began walking to Han's chambers.

Upon entering the clean and neat room Keesha felt the urge to kick off her boots and wrinkle the pin straight comforters on his lavish bed. Hanariel offered her a glass of water before he began preparing his usual incense and herbs. He placed two plush pillows from his bed onto the floor and motioned for her to sit. They sat back to back as Hanariel taught her his meditative sitting style. They closed their eyes and steadied their breathing as each drifted far into the sweet smelling clouds of the mind.

Hanariel felt a strange haze surround him that was thicker than the gentle puffs of burning sage coming from his usual bowl. His meditations had become so realistic Hanariel had trouble distinguishing the clouds of memory from the current moment. The only thing that kept him sure of the present was the empty space where his right arm used to be. Gradually, as Hanariel's visions became more real, his perceptions seemed to catch up to his current state. He stood in a great desert, with the smell of salt water nearby. The dryness on his skin compelled his heated feet to travel towards the lush palm trees and crystal blue waters of the Kalimdor coast. When he reached the white-sand shore he looked to see a small umbrella in the distance. As he came closer, three figures appeared beneath a small tent, similar to the one's he'd seen in the sinfully lavish Silvermoon smoking parlors. Two of the figures he'd never seen before. They seemed loosely collected, as if made of clouds that were starting to drift away in places. The other, dark skinned and rune bathed figure, was one he'd come to know very well.

"Han, what are you doing in my meditation?" Keesha asked, sensing the image of her sweetheart was far more than just a part of her imaginative mind.

"I-I was about to ask you the same thing. Where are we?"

"Tanaris…or rather what your mind chooses to see as Tanaris." One of the two figures, a faded-looking night elf woman with long white hair replied. She took a phantom sip of tea from a pale cup before casting the newcomer a smile. Han squinted a moment as he looked to her familiar seeming form.

"Lady Whitedeer?" The question caused the elder to widely smile before replying with a chuckle.

"That's correct, but not the one you know. Please sit and have some tea." The elder motioned to an empty blue pillow whose softness seemed to demand his touch. He slowly complied, carefully edging himself into the seat. The ghostly woman passed him a solid cup of red tea as the strange figure beside her smiled. What was once a loose clump of energy upon Keesha's first encounter with the spirit was now in a more stable human looking body. His well groomed black hair was combed back and a dark robe covered his form. Despite the improvement, Net's face and hands still seemed to shift from time to time, causing him to stop and concentrate from time to time. Both the elder night elf and the dark-haired human's eye glowed with a golden tint, the same color that found its way onto both Keesha and Han's skin. "I am Orin Whitedeer and this is my companion, Net. We are spirits of the tree."

"Orin Whitedeer…you're Orifiel's mom, right?" Keesha asked, remembering her briefing about the shrine deep within the roots.

"That is correct." Orin smiled.

"So the stories were true then, the tree keeps the souls of the fallen?"

"Yes…and no. I am here because of my daughter's actions. But that is not why both of you are here." Orin curtly spoke, covering the action with an apologetic smile.

"So, care to explain it then? How can two people meditating get into each other's head?" Keesha looked to the familiar form of Net who cleared his throat before speaking.

"We are not in a vision; we're in neither of your minds anymore. We are in a place called 'The Either.' It is the same place I mentioned when we first met. Your decision to conduct a joint meditation made it possible for you to be taken here." Net informed. Orin nodded in confirmation.

"That's correct. This realm knows no time, no flow, only the present perception."

"Like the Emerald Dream?" Han asked, receiving a quick nod from Orin.

"Very similar…only this realm is strictly controlled. Few have ever seen it, well, few who live anyway. The dead pass through it on their way to the light or to oblivion. The unborn flow to their next bodies from the life cycle. You are allowed here because…well that is not an answer you are to know yet. But in time, you will." Orin sighed, her eyes desperate to tell everything she knew, but her lips shut tight. Net was equally silent.

"So you brought us both here to tell us nothing? What a waste of time. I could be fixing leaks or buffing portals right now." Keesha shorted and crossed her arms. Orin merely smiled and placed her teacup down. The motion seemed to weigh heavy in the summer air as the scene around them began to slowly dissolve.

"What the hell?"

"He approaches." Orin's voice echoed as the landscape quickly crumbled. Each grain of sand became a black dot in an ocean of darkness. Each drop of water that washed over the beach became a bright golden star. The sky and clouds formed threads that extended well beyond sight. And as the world around them disappeared, Keesha and Han came together as they felt the ground beneath them scatter into nothing.

Han grunted as he felt himself pulled upward. With his golden runes blazing brighter than the billions of stars that surrounded them and eyes wide, Hanariel's form began to shatter like glass until all that remained was a complex body made of runes and consciousness. He could feel everything, he could see all of Azeroth's history and the myriad of possibilities flung at him all at once. The threads that were his mind threatened to unravel as a deep, black hand pulled them into place. What was once Keesha was a black-woven bundle of dark runes. She too felt the weight of Aseroth's sins and the burdens of the past. But the golden creature that held her kept Keesha from sinking into the infinite. There were no voices that came from the two masses of energy. There were no thoughts, only pure feelings of shared fear, uncertainty, and exaltation.

A voice seemed to thread through them both as the wave of past, present, and possible futures threatened to drown them both.

"Hanariel Dawnblade and Keesha Hazzad." The deep masculine voice rumbled. The sound echoed in the bundle of runes that were their minds. "Your time is now. Pull only what you need from the Either. Take only what is yours. Give everything to one another and you will become my champions. Trust in my wisdom and know what is to come." The great voice from Mydrassil burst as the chaos around them grew maddening. The pair of thread and rune bundles wove into one entity, fighting back the wild energies and vast history. Every tear shed and drop of blood washed over them but the mass of energy fought through it and when the surface of the great expanse was breached, each spirit flew out of the mysterious either and back into the familiar flesh of their mortal forms.

Keesha felt as if her very soul was torn to pieces and reformed. The darkness inflicted upon her soul was now a darkness that sheltered the strength of the past. Her eyes were alight with a fierce determination not even someone with her confidence knew before. But despite the knowledge and the resolution to the mysterious happenings, her heart screamed as if cut away from a perfect union. She turned to Han who looked to her with the same weighted gaze. There was a calm, a strength and a certainty that dwelled within his stern looking face. Her own heart's cry seemed to echo in his gaze but as they both settled back in their usual forms the heaviness that surrounded them lifted like a thick smoke cloud.

"So that is what this is all about." Keesha mused. The messages of The Either wordlessly spoke a million replies to any questions either could think to ask. She stood and stretched for a moment before helping her mate up. Hanariel stood and looked to her with a smiling nod.

"The veil is lifted it would seem. This will be quite the undertaking. Think you can handle it?" Han smiled and laughed as Keesha playfully struck his left arm.

"Please, try and keep up blondie. We both know you're a little slow." Keesha smirked as she slowly moved in to place herself in his emboldened embrace. She leaned in, pressing herself against him as if they would somehow meld as they did in The Either. Her eyes grew soft, beautifully vulnerable as Han felt her warmth enter his own chest.

"Not when you're doing that…" Han joked as they slowly leaned in for a long, passionate kiss. "Or that."

"How about this?" Keesha whispered as her fiendish fingers shamelessly moved to an area of weakness. Despite the great abilities and power he was bestowed, Hanariel seemed to melt like a well-lit candle. The pair bonded a second time, reinforcing their spiritual union. All future shadows that loomed before them and all tearing claws of past pain seemed to vanish between them as the mystics danced in perfection, light and dark - allies in whatever may lie in their path.


	25. Flea 25: The Cat's in the Cradle

**Straydog Saga**

Flea 25: The Cat's in the Cradle

* * *

The usual bustle in the social districts of Mydrassil's trunk began to quiet. Small buds at the tops of tall branches began to open as a moonless midnight fell over the lightly glowing halls. Bright lights came from within the freshly opened blooms. The tradesman and other contractors were closing up shop and doing the last of their close out duties when a dark shadow approached from the west. A figure rode in on secretive wings; the beast the figure rode upon was sickly and reeked of death as it deposited its rider on the branch-carved west flight deck before returning to the western sky. The flight masters were switching shifts, leaving no one to shine a light on the black cloaked informant. The noble looking hippogryphs began to stir but those who spent the day toiling could not find the energy to move let along alert their handlers. Those beasts that were slotted for the night shift were not yet awake enough to hear the sound of hushed hoof-steps snaking their way into the heart of the trunk.

When the cloaked figure arrived at one of the trunk's lesser-trafficked bars, Night Harry's, he gave a distinctive knock: twice, then once, then three times. He looked around for any signs of life, but to his beating heart's relief the wooden door slowly opened before anyone who might cause trouble could be found in his sight.

"It's about time." The hooded human woman within hissed as she ushered her black-clad guest into what the unsuspecting employees of the dive bar thought to be a wine storage closet. There, at a small table, waited a small group of similarly cloaked spies. They made no greeting or acknowledging gesture as the hulking draenei took his seat. The human woman shifted into her true, ferocious form as she took her seat at the head of the table.

"What news do you bring, Balumbra?" A male human at the head of the table calmly asked beneath an opaque hood.

"We're still gathering the necessary…distractions. Bodyl plans on bringing the mercenaries here in three days or less if possible and my dear sister is helping ensure their cooperation. They'll be more than capable of keeping the warden and her servants busy while we move in, by his measure." Balumbra spoke, doing his best to hide the snide lack of faith in his fellow Twilight's Hammer associate.

"It's taking too LONG. By our spies' measure the wards are nearly finished. Once the warding is done THEY will come. The master will not be happy if we do not get that damn gem out of here before then." The worgen woman informed with an impatient growl. Balumbra nodded.

"You are right. I will return to him with that information. What will be our route once we arrive here with the mercenaries? Has one been decided yet?" Balumbra looked to the worgen at the head of the table and received a curt nod.

"You will take your "distractions" to the east loading dock at 3 am. That is when the dock workers switch shifts. You will enter the roots from there. Do not engage Mizuon and his water elementals if possible, they're more trouble than anything else. You will find a set of portals to the trunk within. We'll provide you with all the necessary maps once we're done here. DO NOT touch the roots; they can kill you in one strike. Make your way to the trade district and you'll find the portals to the upper bough just beyond the west perch. From there one of our operatives will meet you. We'll do our best to ensure that any and all obstructions are removed before you reach the Pinnacle Bough. That is where the gem is housed."

"Shouldn't we steer the mercenaries from the gem while our forces move in? That would pull their attention elsewhere." Balumbra asked with a raised brow. The human at the table cleared his throat.

"They are no fools. There isn't anything in the roots or trunk of any worth to us. If we spread out our forces when taking the gem we may not have enough agents to do it while our people are getting the flight decks and docks on lock down. There are many more of them than us. It would be helpful to bring the…fodder to the gem in case we need additional "shielding" if you catch my meaning." The human spoke, leaning forward on the table and folding his pale hands. Balumbra took the explanation and, unable to see too much fault in the reasoning, shrugged in acceptance.

"And what will happen once we get to the gem?"

"We'll take it from…" The worgen paused and began sniffing the air. She began to growl as the smell of rose water and hibiscus came to her nose. Her ears perked as the sound of trembling breaths became apparent from behind the closed door. The shadow of small, human feet clad in a bar-maid's shoes slowly flickered in the dim lamplight coming from the bar. The young woman, named Gina, had returned after her nightly shift to pick up her boyfriend Tommy's hat, which he'd accidentally left upon his daily visit only to stumble upon a dread meeting. "…we have a mouse." The worgen woman growled, leaping onto the table before pouncing on the door.

A desperate, choked scream burst from the young barmaid as she fled. The door slammed open as the raging worgen shouted for her cohorts to follow. The terrified young human fled with her long, chestnut hair trailing freely behind her. She stumbled as her high-healed shows began to dig into her flesh. Despite the fresh open wounds to the sides of her feet and heal, the shadow that pursued Gina kept her mind tied to the chase.

Gina saw a smoldering light in the smithy where her friend and fellow contractor, Jim, worked and ran towards the building. She pounded on the door, screaming her friend's name and for much needed help. But the only think the drunk and slumbering men within could muster was a heavy snore. Gina had no choice but to keep running along the deserted road around the trade district as the twilight shadow threatened to silence her. She arrived at the west deck, blood staining her shoes and lungs ready to burst. She came to an older dwarf, the west-perch flight master, as tears of relief began to stream down her face.

"Thank the light, please help me!" She screamed and sobbed as the old dwarf began to comfort her.

"What happened, lass? Did someone hurt you?"

"I-I was in Night Harry's. I heard v-voices. Something about an attack, please they're coming!" She sobbed. She felt his strong, supportive grip shift. Her tear filled eyes met his and as a sinister smile came to his bearded lips all of the blood in her heart seemed to freeze.

"Squeak, squeak, squeak, goes the lit-tol mouse." A raspy worgen voice cackled. Gina couldn't move in the dwarf's crushing grip as the terrifying voice of the cloaked worgen came from the flight-deck entrance. Gina turned to see the group slowly approaching as she wriggled in the dwarf's grasp.

"Well done, brother. I'll see to it that the master learns of your good deed." Balumbra smiled. Gina screamed as loudly as she could muster, earning her a stony bunch to the stomach. With the wind knocked out of her, the young waitress sank to her knees.

The worgen woman approached, and took Gina's chin in her furry paw. She slowly, almost gently lifted the girl's face, her green eyes still filled with terrified tears.

"I-I wont tell, I swear, I swear. Please let me go…" Gina weakly begged. The Worgen gave her a small smile before turning to her associates.

"You know what we used to do in Gilneas when we caught a mouse?" She softly spoke as she sharply moved her strong claw to tightly grip Gina's throat. She lifted the struggling girl up and began slowly walking to an empty spot on the flight deck. She held the kicking girl over the guard rail before speaking with disgust and hateful glee. "We'd drop them in a bucket to see how well they could swim." She snarled and, without a single moment of hesitation, opened her clawed hand.

* * *

Daggerfang hoisted the sack of supplies and spirits with a strained grunt. While the large burlap sack on his back was heavy with food and drink, his own coin purse felt as if it contained clouds rather than coins. He'd spent a few days in the snow-draped city of Everlook gathering supplies and meeting with a few Steamwheedle Cartel contacts for any known bounty hunters who may have been trolling the area. While there were no mercenaries looking to start trouble with members of Shandori's traveling circus, there was a sentinel presence in town along with several individuals who were seeking aid in capturing, and even killing, wanted criminals.

After speaking with the last of his contacts, Daggerfang checked the wanted board for any fresh postings regarding the group. To his mixed delight there was a wanted poster for his capture with a moderate reward but the drawing was vague and looked nothing like the grinning wolf-man. He noticed that Shandori's bounty had nearly tripled and the images attached seemed far too sinister to be the warrior he came to know. But despite their embellishments, they did get many of her defining features correct: her facial scars, hair style, weight, height, were all on the mark by his eyes.

There was a fresh paper demanding Christoffel's demise. A whopping 5000 gold and precious materials reward made Daggerfang question his own honor, or what little he had left in his current profession. Despite the glittering reward, the poster did not attach a drawing, but the written description was spot on if the reader's attention could be held long enough. A 5000 gold and precious relics reward was more than enough to keep Daggerfang reading every letter on the page.

He shook his head and sighed before prying himself from the temptations of the wanted board and heading into the inn for one last drink before returning to the safe-house.

For a remote location, the Everlook inn was choked with travelers but the majority of the traffic was centered around the room check in and not the bar. He took a seat on one of the small, red stools.

"What'll ya have?" The barkeep asked with a little more cheer than the average goblin. Daggerfang's vision ran over the various tap options. One ornate looking tap adored with a bright blue dragon caught his eye.

"I don't always drink beer, but when I do, I prefer Gos Malys." He chuckled, reaching for his lighter-than-air coin purse. The goblin gave a strained sigh as he poured the worgen a tall pint.

"Yeah, yeah: 'You're the most interesting worgen in the world.' Like I haven't heard THAT a million times." The barkeep sighed.

"Make it two." A smooth, darkly angelic voice spoke. Daggerfang's ears perked a little at the sweet sound as the speaker took a seat beside him. Her slender form was covered in a think cloak, which seemed to permeate the air around her with shadow. The smell of death on her was so thick that Daggerfang felt small ears roll down his face. She turned to look at him with bright red eyes nearly causing a yelp of fright to escape past his cringing maw.

"You!" He managed to hiss as a small, amicable smile came to the dark ranger's face.

"I'm not here to pick a fight…with you." She simply spoke as their beers were placed before them. Daggerfang shifted uncomfortably in his seat as the sensual corpse took a sip of her drink. The silence was so awkward that the barkeep felt compelled to whistle.

"What are you doing here?" Dagerfang growled as the dark ranger turned and pointed to her neck. She pulled down her cloak slightly to reveal thick black stitches along her throat.

"After our less than civil meeting I was revived by travelers. Needless to say your night elf friend did a bit of damage but it was nothing Forsaken doctors, iron screws, and a bit of magic couldn't fix. A little birdie in Tibermaw Hold told me that my target did not die and that your group was headed to Everlook and here you are." She sighed taking another long gulp of beer. "This was my favorite, back when I could taste it."

"What do you want?" Daggerfang spoke, avoiding eye contact with the dark ranger. His twitching fingers could no longer resist the temptation of a rare brew as the Gos Malys found its way into his furry mouth.

"That's fairly obvious isn't it? I want Stingblade's heart on a little silver plate. There's a liver in it for you if you're willing to-"

"Your queen destroyed my home, my family, and ruined my life. You're wasting your air, little girl. I should crunch your face off where you sit…" He snarled. Daggerfang remembered the detailed note and outrageous reward from a few moments earlier. He snorted as the owner of the note became very apparent. The dark ranger beside him known as 'Highraven' gave the rogue a cool smile before placing enough gold on the table for both their drinks.

"Stingblade did the same to me. I was resurrected and turned into this against my will, same as many of your neighbors. But unlike them it wasn't until the lich king fell did I find myself in my Lady's service. Now I have no choice but to follow a twisted queen in a twisted kingdom. You know I served in one of the proudest, finest armies this world has ever seen? I served under a true woman of grace and dignity. I gave it all up to save his wretched life and I am willing to pay, very handsomely, for his last breath. Far more money than he or his allies will ever be able to give you. You may even have a shot at me once it's done, if you like." Highraven offered, taking another huge gulp of beer. Daggerfang rumbled as he turned back for a large taste of his own drink. Unlike Highraven, whose life giving blood rotted away long ago, Daggerfang could feel the delightful deluge of alcohol in his mind as he ordered another pint on Highraven's coin. She smiled and leaned forward on the bar.

"I'd much rather have a shot at your banshee bitch-queen. Can you do that for me?"

"You know I can't do that."

"Well then thanks for the beer, lady. But I can't help you." Daggerfang snorted, guzzling down the last of his second drink in a single gulp. Highraven's mind nimbly darted. The fact that the worgen was even talking to her, let alone he was slowly becoming intoxicated provided ample opportunity for manipulation if she could find the right window.

"That's a shame…although I could also offer to help you look for your family. We raised so many after we took your city. All recorded too. Perhaps I may be able to find them for you." Highraven offered, placing another powerful brew in his hairy palm. Beer-fueled images of his young son playing with close pins, pots, or whatever the young one could get his little hands on began running through his mind. He did his best to drown them with more beer, but the liquid seemed more like rocket fuel than water to a flame. That terrible night when the moon was full and the worgen were howling seemed to scream like a siren in his wolf-ears. He placed an empty pint on the table and watched the bar tender begin to pour his next.

"A safe house. He's at a safe house in the mountains. I will not take you there but we'll be meeting up with some folks here at the inn in a day or so once I get back and let them know its safe. He won't be alone, not by a long shot. That's all I've got." Daggerfang felt a pang of so many things through his ordeal, the least of them being guilt for his associate. Highraven suppressed a wicked smile as she did her best to keep her face and tone sympathetic.

"That's all I need. And if this information leads to his demise, I will move Azeroth itself to find your family." Highraven nodded, leaving fifty gold pieces on the counter, enough for a large bottle of something for the crestfallen and demoralized worgen to crawl into.

* * *

"Sister!" Morion gasped, as he quickly walked to the bed that contained the injured Sentinel. Falina lay there, in the Everlook Infirmary, with her strong frame battered beneath fresh blankets. After the strange fight with Maiev she quickly ran as fast as her injuries would allow in the direction of Everlook. Though only a few of her girls made it there, among the lucky survivors was her second in command: Natajha. It was Natajha that carried the failing Falina the last 3 miles to Everlook where they found willing help in exchange for the gold in their pockets and shiny mementos of rings and necklaces. Morion could see evidence of struggle in deep purple bruises on her arms and shoulders. Deep slices, carefully stitched, told the story of a skilled opponent mercilessly tearing into his sister's person. He knelt beside her, Falina turning her head to face the heart-sick hunter.

"Natajha sent for you?" she sighed, sore neck strained in turning her swimming head.

"Of course. I came as quickly as I could." He said with a slight sense of guilt in his pale eyes. "What happened? Was it Shandori?" Morion asked with a slight growl in his voice. A few moments passed before Falina replied.

"No…someone else. Someone stronger." Falina roughly spoke through pained breaths. Morion motioned to a nurse for a glass of water, which Falina accepted and began to carefully sip. "It was an elder watcher; at least the armor she wore resembled theirs. Her fighting style was so fierce, so determined. I've never seen anything like it. She cut through my brightest girls like they were made of paper." Falina coughed, the pain in her fresh wounds overtaking her usual facial agony.

"W-why? Why would she do that? It just doesn't make sense…" Morion shook his head.

"I…do not know, brother. All I know is she is with Shandori's traveling freak show. I overheard one of them, I think it was the troll, call out to the Watcher before I made my escape." Falina twisted her face to frown in disgust, only to show a slight twinge in her shattered mask.

"What did the troll say?"

"She called the name, 'Maiev.' It gave the watcher pause enough for me to flee." Falina watched as Morion's eyes went wide for a moment before he exhaled and shook his head.

"What a horrible woman, marring the name of the dead in such a way. There was a great huntress called Maiev Shadowsong…"

"I know the story brother." Falina curtly interrupted. Morion felt a slight heat on his cheeks as he heard his sister sigh. "I am sorry. I did not mean to be sharp."

"It's alright, just get some rest for real this time. Don't go off on one of your crusades again, please. Let someone else deal with Shandori. You're going to be an aunt soon; my child will need his aunt around to show him how to wield a glaive." Morion smiled as he saw the dark cloud over his sister's form seemed to dissipate, if ever so slightly.

"You're so sure it's a boy?" Falina asked with what was her best attempt at a raised brow. Morion beamed with a nod.

"Yes, I've even thought of a good name too. He'll be called Alorion Catwhisper."

"What if it's a girl?"

"A girl? Oh…I'll leave the naming to Luny. She'd make a fine Sagesmoke." Morion said with a hint of disappointment in his voice.

"Well if it is a boy or girl child, a father should show his offspring how to wield a weapon." Falina scolded in a gentle tone, taking a bigger gulp of water. Morion shook his head.

"You know I am a man of the bow, sister. I will be his father, but you'll be a hero to him as you are to me." Morion conceded. The lines of worry and worship on his otherwise unmarred face seemed to call to her, begging her to fully heal from her devastating ordeal. The scars on Falina's wrists showed just how good of a swordsman her brother could be if called upon. Morion's attempt at flattery for the sake of her grounding gave Falina no will to contest it. "Besides, we're staying at Iona's villa at Mydrassil, you'd like it there."

"You were given permission to stay there?" Falina asked with a hint of surprise in her voice. The great tree in the east was still considered a contested zone, held by the combined forces of Dalaran, The Cenarion groups, The Earthen Ring, and the Argent groups. No civilians save for contracted service folk were allowed there without special permission from high ranking members of the groups or the tree's planter: Orifiel Whitedeer.

"Yes, Iona could not take leave from her duties, so she asked that we both be allowed to stay there so she could participate in the birth. You know how protective she is. And Lady Whitedeer has always been so accommodating to us; I don't see why she would deny you or Natajha if she would like to be there too..." Morion spoke with veiled implications in his voice.

"Indeed." Falina sighed, looking to the walls as if an answer would magically be scrawled on their surface. The great arbor-beacon called through the words of her brother but the images of the criminal Shandori would not be so easily pushed aside. The hand that gripped her gave a gentle squeeze as kind eyes pleaded for her to comply. "And what great hero of the Kaldorei would I be to my nephew or niece if I did not take some time to witness their entrance into the world?" Falina sighed with what she could give as a smile. As soon as she was healed enough to travel, Falina and Natajha would join her extended family at the great tree, the shadow of Shandori whispering at her back.

* * *

"Did you hear about Gina?" the blacksmith known to his friends as 'McGowan' asked as he brought his trusty hammer down on a knife he was crafting. He did his best not to make eye contact with the young Gilnean human across from him, who weakly polished his latest carpentry piece.

"Yeah… I did." Jim spoke with none of his usual enthusiasm. His deep brown eyes dully rested on the fine table under his trembling hands.

"What happened to Gina?" A Quel'dorei man with long strawberry-blond hair asked as he rolled himself out from under his latest engineering project: an engine that ran on leaves from Mydrassil's arcane-drenched branches. McGowan turned to the engineer, who went by the name "Roth", before looking back to the knife.

"Found her face down on one of the roots near the north dock this morning…fell off the side of one of the perches they think." He sighed. McGowan had heard a lot more than what his lips allowed him to speak. But he decided to spare the human, whose eyes often glimmered with interest at the delightful young girl, the gory details. She apparently fell so far that the impact nearly liquefied her insides and the deed had been done only an hour or so after they had closed up shop for the night. The fish had begun their grim feast when the dock workers found her bloated body. Roth oil and grime-drenched chest sink as his throat began to fill with shock and sorrow.

"Oh…oh no. What happened? D-Do you think she?" He coughed a little, thankful that his usual chronic illness cut off the dreadful thought.

"I knew she should 'ave broken it off with that shit-'ead Tommy. Just used 'er up. I bet it's 'is fault if she…if she did jump. Or maybe 'e sent her off the dock 'imself. Bet 'e was counting on the mutant fish to finish the job for 'im." Jim growled, falling into the common accent his dutiful grandmother spend years purging from his lips and doing his best to keep a saddened stream of tears from slipping through his masculine mask.

"Now, now lad. Don't go making accusations. I hear Romulus himself is looking into it. They'll find out what happened. Until then…" McGowan sighed, not able to find any real words of comfort for the young human whose eyes always seemed to shine when the long haired beauty graced them with her presence.

"That's what you said last time. Something isn't right. Remember Mr. Wilson? Did the officials 'ere ever say what 'appened to 'im?"

"Yes actually, it was a heart attack. His doctors and healers banned him from eating sweets but I know he always made the baker's coin purses heavy. One too many illegal Danishes I suppose." Roth dryly informed with a clogged sounding sniffle.

"Oh-oh…" Jim spoke with a slight blush. Roth sat there for a moment, rubbing the back of his greasy hair with a hand covered in oil. He tried to stop the motion but decided the itch was more important than the state of his fine locks.

"She deserved better, that's for sure. I mean she gave this old man the time of day. And I know she was sweet on you Jim. Wherever she is, I bet my share of the sunwell she's looking after you." He smiled.

"Well, that's not exactly fair to say. I mean for 100 you don't look a day over 20. The human lasses don't know the difference." McGowan smirked at his own age manipulation tactics.

"Oh if only it were true. I'd feel dirty if I came onto her. I'm old enough to be her great grandfather you know? Plus she never seemed to fall for my elfish charm…" The engineer said, snorting back a wad of phlegm before hawking it onto the floor with a sigh of relief.

"Whatever Roth, lets just drop it alright?" Jim sighed, noticing too late that he applied too much linseed oil to his otherwise pristinely stained table. He threw his rag to the ground and stormed out of the smithy. The pain in his chest coupled with the sick feeling in his gut seemed to scream within every fiber of his being. Something terrible happened to Gina the night before and he was going to find out what...


	26. Flea 26: It's a Trap!

**Straydog Saga**

Flea 26: It's a Trap!

* * *

The young human in coal black robes thought his thundering heart would burst. The air in the upper bough seemed too thin as he made his way towards his mother's main office. True to her daily routine, Orifiel waited within to spend lunch with her elder child and his most esteemed mentor while her youngest enjoyed her own mealtime with her nursery mates. Trenton hastily knocked on the door, doing his best not to let his shaking hands make too loud a sound on the heavy wood. The door slowly opened to her mother's calm, smiling face. Her expression quickly turned to one of worry at the frazzled looking and sweaty young human. She moved and opened the door a little more, allowing him to enter.

"Hello Nugget. What's wrong? You're white as a sheet…"

"S-Shut the door, please…" His voice shook. There was none of his usual good humor, mischievous jibes, or pestering banter as Trenton sat hunched over in his chair, unable to look the night elf in the eyes. To his dismay, a dark shadow with a glass of water in his clawed hand had beat him to the office and sat on a couch beside the desk. Trenton's pale face got a tinge of red as his father figure sat up to inquire as to why the young man was in such a state. Orifiel shut her office door and took her usual seat behind her simple white-barked desk.

"So?" Orifiel softly asked. Trenton looked to the painted-glass windows before leaning into whisper.

"They're on the move."

"Who is on the move?" Seth asked with interest piquing as he leaned forward.

"The Twilights. They're mobilizing forces and preparing for a grab at the diamond."

"We know they'd do that, was there a change? They haven't found any interest in the roots have they?" Orifiel sighed. Trenton had falsely joined the Twilight Cult as soon as they snaked their deep violet shadow within the tree's shining branches. Though they were more than weary of the warden's roguish son, the prescribed information he provided was not only confirmed by their agents but found to be invaluable. None of the rats realized their cheese was laced with poison, and thanks to his artful deceptions, the twilight agents still did not know that the trap was set and waiting for them.

"No, we don't have anything to worry about on that front but I have reason to believe their numbers within the tree are much higher than we thought. They talked about hiring mercenaries, which I thought they'd use to procure the stone but…they mentioned Bodyl and…" Trenton winced at the hate-filled anger that seemed to come from Seth like a shower of poison-drenched arrows.

"Bodyl…he is coming?"

"Yes, he will be with the mercenaries. They'll be heading here in the next few days, tonight if all goes according to plan. T-They killed that girl." Trenton said, barely finding the will to speak the last few words. Orifiel looked to him with shock in her eyes.

"Not another one…" Orifiel sadly sighed as she watched Trenton slowly nod.

"I-I couldn't stop them. Bordella LaMenge did it…dropped her right off the west perch. I-I couldn't help her."

"You would have compromised yourself if you did. Her death will not be in vain, Nug. Your actions will avenge her, Mr. Wilson, and all the millions lost because of those horrible bastards." Orifiel strongly proclaimed, doing her best to keep her voice contained in the thin-walled room.

"We can stop them before they even get here. Bodyl is in Everlook, only a small flight away-"

"No." Seth spoke with a voice that seemed to make the light air sink.

"S-Sir?"

"Let him come. The treacherous, little snake will be made to pay for his crimes and I will be the one to stomp on his wretched little throat…" Seth's eyes seemed to burn a hole in the floor as images of his former comrade, a brother in arms, began to light up and burn away to nothing in his anger.

"Stop it. Don't let your anger control your judgment. Remember the LAST TIME that happened?" Orifiel cast a glance only a wifely woman could muster as her tone referred to an incident in outland involving the hated dwarf, a rampaging gron, and her mate's furious rage. Seth's dark aura seemed to tear away in weakly woven ribbons as he felt his shoulders sink. He crossed his arms with a huff and looked away with an expression of anger and embarrassment on his features.

"S-So what do we do?"

"We'll let them come. If you're right and there are a lot more Twilights here we'll never know just who is working for them if we nip things in the bud now…" Orifiel said as another knock came to her office door. She cleared her throat before giving the call to enter. The contractors came in with a lunch of fresh greens, small neatly crafted sandwiches, and small containers of water and vegetable juices. Orifiel cleared the usual space on her desk for the lunch tray before allowing the workers to set up their meal. When the contractors left Orifiel began setting up their plates. Trenton moved his heels up and down vigorously, making his knees pop up and down as he crossed his arms.

"So we just let them attack us?" Trenton growled as images of the brown haired screaming girl flashed in his mind. His mother passed him a well-rounded plate with fresh greens and a roast beef sandwich. He glared at her, her ever calm and collected expression did not waver as he moved to snatch the tray with a thankful nod. "More rabbit food…at least they managed to get a good portion of meat this time." He grumbled as he took a sizable bite of his juice-dripping sandwich. The taste calmed his nerves and dulled his aching mind as the soothing energy in the room began work its way into his sweating skin.

"We'll do our best to minimize the damage. We have trusted allies here and a sound defense system, Nugget. Just continue to steer them in our direction and we'll take care of it." Orifiel nodded.

"Could you stop calling me that? I'm not a child."

"Oh I'm sorry…Pookie." Orifiel mumbled the last word before smirking and passing a tray topped with a few small chicken sandwiches sans all leafy items to Seth who grumbled but accepted his lunch.

"Stop tormenting him, please…chicken and white grain again?"

"If you wanted something different you should have told me sooner. They do special orders you know." Orifiel shrugged, placing the specially ordered grilled cheese with tomato on kaldorei honey-bread on her plate before carefully pouring herself a large glass of carrot juice.

"How long do we have to eat this rubbish?" Seth grumbled, taking a small but gruff bite of his lunch.

"Appearances, dear. Appearances. We don't want the contracting staff upset over our picky eating habits, do we?" Orifiel said, trying her best not to sound belittling to her beloved.

"Wot…mmphf…What do they care? You're still paying them." Trenton grunted while wolfing down his lunch.

"The staff here work really hard to make sure everything they do is of the finest quality. And now they work under the Twilight's whims? They care very much and it's our duty to do the same, is that understood?" Orifiel asked, half expecting Seth to begrudgingly nod in agreement. She gave Seth a sideways glance, seeing only a scowling mouth dully chewing on an order he'd had to endure every lunch for the past three months.

"Whatever happens, I hope it happens soon. I can't take too much more of this."

"If what you say is true then we'll have all our answers before the week is out. But whenever they choose to show themselves…we'll be waiting for them.

* * *

Christoffel let his hearing slip into a comfortable hum. The time-honored technique passed down from male to male since the dawn of the female age served him well as the occasional squeal or giggle abruptly rung out in crisp morning air. He dully watched as Ima tried on a new pair of earrings that looked to be a pair of human style bear dolls carved out of cow bone from one of Everlook's street vendors. From what he could discern, Pashima was going on about how adorable they looked and how envious she was of how the fake gems for eyes on the bears matched Ima's so well.

Christoffel, Potan, Ima, Pashima, and F-Bomb traveled to Everlook upon hearing Daggerfang's report to help Pashima reunite with her own traveling group. Due to the sentinel presence and detailed wanted posters, Shandori did not accompany her business partner and her collected minions. Maiev, still enjoying her slow recovery in the hot springs decided to continue her rehabilitation with Meryld happily keeping watch. Daggerfang decided to take a bottle of spirits to the couch and enjoy a long nap.

"Friend Stingblade, are you well?" Potan asked, snapping Christoffel's senses back into focus.

"Hmm, yes. Just a little nauseous."

"If your illness flares, I have some potions to ease the sickness."

"Appreciated. I'll feel better when we um, lighten our load, and get back to the safe house." Christoffel sighed as the pair of girls continued their light hearted shopping spree. "Where did F-Bomb say she was going?"

"She will be back shortly. She mentioned some supplies that Daggerfang forgot to get."

"It's not like we'll be able to find things without her. I haven't been here since…well long enough for things to change." Chris admitted, looking to familiar buildings with unfamiliar signs. Potan nodded in agreement as he took in the sparse activity in the frozen town, pulling his thick cloth cloak over his huge shoulders. They were unaware of the faded, red eyed shadow that kept the dark haired rogue in her sight. Highraven darted from crate to wall to vending stall following the group as they shifted about their business. Her sight drifted from her target only when a well trained group of Everlook Bruisers came close. She shuttered at their massive hammers that, if wielded by the more experienced in their number, could shatter her body and crush her ambitions. That coupled with Christoffel's entourage, Highraven had little choice but to follow, stay out of sight, and bide her time.

"Hey, guys ova heeeere! You'll never guess who I found." She heard a grainy voice shout from behind. Highraven scurried behind a barrel full of frozen fish as Christoffel and Potan walked towards a group of four goblins with Ima and Pashima still haggling behind them. F-Bomb waved them over to where she and three goblin men, who looked no older than 20 years each, stood. "I want cha to meet my terrible tree."

"Terrible tree?" Potan asked, not quite understanding the statement with F-Bomb's accent, and half expecting a corrupted ancient defender to appear.

"Yeah, my tree little trouble makers, my kiddos. Well they ain't little no more. They're on break right now and I thought it would be good to get acquainted." F-bomb beamed as one of the three rolled his beady eyes while another waved.

"I-I didn't know you were that old…teen pregnancies?" Christoffel asked, making use of his dusty but still razor sharp wooing skills. The three goblin males to expressed varying degrees of disgust as F-Bomb beamed at the flattery.

"Yer a good boy Chris. I'm addin' you to my good list," she smiled with a slight blush, "Anyway, this is Sal…"

"Yo." Sal nodded to Christoffel who returned the gesture.

"…and Franky and the little one's Moe."

"Thanks Ma…"

"What? You've always been my little green jelly bean." F-Bomb smirked while pinching Moe's cheek. Moe's brothers began to snicker at the action but Christoffel and Potan mercifully abstained. "They're all Everlook Bruisers. The best in their class too and uh, it's a little extra security if you get what I'm sayin."

"No ma, we can't take sides remember?" Sal informed while resting his hand on his plate belt.

"I'm not askin' ya to. Just keep an eye out for ah…you know the usual. We haven't made a lot of friends in recent weeks, me included." F-Bomb softly laughed with pleading eyes. Frank and Moe looked to Sal, the oldest of the three, with questioning eyes. When Sal sighed and nodded, they had their answer.

"Alright, ma. Like we don't do that already, eesh." Frank sighed.

"Have any of you seen a tall draenei fellow with a black haired dwarf? We have one of theirs with us and she'd like to find her way back to them." Christoffel informed, trying to move the introductions and small talk along.

"Uh, a 'tall draenei'? ALL draenei are tall. That's like asking about an ugly gnome. Can you get a little more specific? " Moe grumbled earning him a smack from F-Bomb. "Ow—What'd I do?" He childishly whined.

"What have we talked about? Don't be a racist!"

"I ain't being racist it's true! I've never met a good lookin' gnome-OW!" Moe ducked as another swift smack the head rung out in the cold air.

"P-Perhaps it would be best to go into more detail…" Potan offered, eyes darting between Christoffel and the unbridled act of mother to son abuse.

"Uh, yeah…from what the girl said he had dark blue skin, two large horns and the rune on his forehead got scratched out in an accident. The dwarf has black hair and a black beard. They're traveling together. That's all I got." Christoffel offered. A spark of realization came to Sal's face.

"I've seen a pair like that. They checked into the inn a few days back during the start of my night shift. They came and went a few times but I didn't see them check out and if they're waiting on someone they're probably still there." Sal informed as he watched Frank try to quell their mother's outrage with calming words.

"I suppose we should start our search there. But I don't know where the inn in this town is do you?" Potan asked Christoffel who couldn't remember the building's location.

"I'll take you on by; my lunch break is almost over anyway. You two mooks take care of ma. I'll see you at the bar later." Sal said, waving his family off and leading the two men and two fresh jewelry-adored girls towards the Everlook inn. "I ah, hear you helped bust ma outta the clink a few weeks back." Sal spoke, wiping his long green nose with his sleeve.

"Yeah."

"Made her stow you in our winter house in exchange for doing the decent thing, eh?" Sal looked to Chris who felt his toes begin to curl slightly in his boots.

"Err that was my partner. She's very shrewd."

"Nah, I'm just busting your balls. I woulda done the same. I'm sure Moe woulda paid ya better to leave her there-Here we are." Sal spoke, waving to his fellow bruiser before walking back to his usual spot beside the entrance. "Head on in and look around. If you don't see anyone, ask Mishta at the desk. She knows everybody and every-body knows her if you ah, catch the drift." Sal smirked and looked to the bruiser next to him. They cackled and gave one another a high five after the four travelers entered the inn.

Christoffel scanned the open area of the inn. There were a few scattered parties sitting and drinking at one of the small round tables. Before Christoffel could complete his search, a happy squeal and the sound of fast moving hooves sent his vision to the sound's creator. Pashima dashed to one of the tables that contained a hulking figure and his shrouded shorter companion.

"Brother Bal!" Pashima smiled as she leaped to give her brother an enthusiastic hug. The draenei gave the young woman a bewildered look as the gleam in her otherwise innocent eyes compelled him to play along. Balumbra gave his sister a cautious hug and patted her on the back twice before releasing.

"Sister, we were beginning to worry…"

"It's fine my brother, thanks to Imajin and her friends I was able to come to Everlook and return to you." She smiled, giving no credit to the goblin and worgen who were responsible for her present company. She quickly introduced Potan and Christoffel, spending a great amount of time talking about her best troll friend in the world. Though Christoffel's feet were about ready to sprint to the exit, he was compelled to stay by puppy-dog eyes and a great deal of whining to at least dine with Pashima's grateful brother before departing. It wasn't until they were seated did Christoffel get a good look at the dwarf at the table. The long black bearded and pale skin seemed to bring images of job's past into his weary mind.

"Do I know you?" Christoffel asked as a voluptuous blond goblin began placing menus down in front of the group. Her hand and eyes lingered on him a bit longer than the others and the look in her glassy blue eyes made him loose his appetite.

"Perhaps...Stingblade, right?" The dwarf replied. The deep tone snapped all loose images in the rogues mind into acute focus.

"Mr. Bodyl? Hell it's been a while. How did the experiments with the dragon bones go?" Christoffel's speech was cut short as Bodyl shushed him and motioned with his hands to silence the tone.

"Keep it down." Bodyl looked about the sparse eating area and motioned for Christoffel to follow him out the side exit. Chris, not hesitating to leave the giggling and gossiping behind, followed the dark dwarf. When they were out of sight and earshot of those visible Bodyl cleared his throat. "Didn't mean to be rude. Can't exactly be too careful now a days…"

"Oh?" Christoffel raised a brow as Bodyl looked around once more before leaning in to whisper.

"This may be a bit of a shock but I wasn't exactly honest with the lot of you when I hired you. It would not be good to talk about that transaction in the company of others."

"No…" Christoffel rolled his eyes. "I sort of figured that but it was money so I wasn't about to ask for details."

"Good lad. There's no harm in your questions and you have earned at least some bit of the truth for your past help. And uh…bringing HER back." Bodyl coughed.

"Hey, you don't owe me anything. I got paid for more than the job was worth. But ah, maybe some money in damages for having to babysit would be helpful." Christoffel smirked with a slight snort. His eyes widened slightly as Bodyl began to pull out 50 gold from one of his bags. "N-No man, you don't have to I was joking…"

"Did you have to listen to her scream? Talk endlessly about nothing? Cry and whine at the drop of a hat?"

"Y-Yeah but-" Christoffel felt the dwarf forcefully grab his wrist and slammed the 50 gold pieces in his open palm with a clink. Bodyl nodded with a slight cringe.

"Anyway. My associate and I WERE doing alchemical research for a small alchemist's guild when we stumbled upon something strange. When we compressed the energy from the bones, the energy began to take on new characteristics. While the bones were powerful agents in potions and dusts, they were ten times more potent in gem form. The transmuted dragon bones, the ones you and your group retrieved, had the power to put those who touched them into a deep, near permanent dream state." Bodyl shuttered, remembering the first time he himself grazed one of the gems in question. He found himself unable to wake for three days.

"That is big. I didn't know dragon bones could be transmuted…"

"We're finding more and more alternatives to hard to find reagents. The whole purpose of the project was to find viable replacements for over farmed materials. But that is not why I'm speaking to you here…"

"Go on." Christoffel implored as Bodyl, once again, looked over his shoulder. The ever present shadow, waiting to cut down the blood elf rogue, found herself mesmerized by the conversation and overlooked by the speaker. Though she could have easily incapacitated the dwarf and taken a shot at her prize, they stood within a few seconds run of two well-battled Everlook Bruisers. She made no motion to strike as the conversation continued.

"You've heard of Mydrassil, yes?"

"The tree in Azshara, right?"

"Yes. Some of my fellow alchemists were hired on contract to explore the properties of the leaves there, which are rumored to contain massive amounts of arcane energy. I have solid intelligence that the leader of the tree, an Orifiel Whitedeer, is keeping a massive gem like the ones we created within the tree's high bough. If a tiny stone can nearly kill a fully grown dwarf imagine what one the size of Bronzebeard's throne could do! We were hoping that the gem was being used as a repository for access energy but…there is evidence to suggest that some in the tree plan to use it against the peoples of Azeroth. The Twilight's Hammer…has a bold presence there and they are lead by none other than the archmage Seth Nightgaze." The dwarf scowled as if resisting the urge to vomit at the mention of the name.

"I thought they were defeated after Deathwing's demise…" Christoffel whispered, as he felt his heart began to beat and his mind fully pulled into the story on Bodyl's slippery and treacherous tongue.

"No. Nightgaze and his remnants keep the old ways alive. He keeps Whitedeer blind to his trickery and, according to my sources; he plans to make his move in the next few days."

"How do you know all this and why are you telling me?" Christoffel asked. The dark cloud in his mind cleared for a moment as reason desperately tried to break through the story. There were so many questions, so many reasons to doubt what the dwarf was saying. The whole situation seemed too contrived, too convenient by Christoffel's struggling thoughts: Pashima's mysterious arrival, her associate was his former employer, and now he was not only looking to recruit people for a big job, but conveniently offering it to him. But Christoffel and even Highraven were unaware of the thin mist coming from the dwarf's reagent pouch that was as clear as air and just as easily taken in. As Bodyl's quick tongue and sticky mind worked, reason seemed nothing more than a whisper in a thunderstorm.

"Because I once had ties to the Twilight's Hammer. I did many terrible things and I have spent the last 10 years trying to make up for them. Nightgaze cannot let go and he cannot move on. He would make this world suffer for his mistakes. Why am I telling you? Let me put it to you in a way you'll understand. I have another job. A BIG job worth BIG money if I succeed."

"How much?" Christoffel interrupted.

"I'll pay a base of 8000 gold per head. Any spoils from the job will be yours. All I want is Nightgaze stopped. Everything else is up for grabs." Bodyl offered. Christoffel slowly whistled at the reward as the temptation of shining golden beads washed over his un-sentimental heart.

"Tell me more about the job."

"I'm gathering a force to take on Nightgaze before he implements his plans with the gem. It will be extremely dangerous, which is why I need to hire help. Some of my alchemist guild will be able to help but we are too few in number. We have detailed maps of the tree and the quickest route to the gem and its keepers while avoiding a lot of the…rubbish that may get in our way. If Whitedeer does not see reason…we may have to take forceful action against her as well. Do you think you can help us?" Bodyl asked.

Christoffel thought for a moment, or at least he did his best to. He blamed the strange fog in his mind to his slow recovery and lack of lunch. Something within, some distant instinct seemed to bark "yes!" But another force, though drowned by the thunderous dark cloud did its best to make itself known. Highraven, also caught in the speakers strange unspoken spell waited to hear the rogue's reply. Christoffel shrugged, quieting the forces in his head with a single thought and a sly smile.

"I can't answer that just yet. I need to talk it over with my business partner…"

* * *

Shandori was staring at the ceiling to her designated bedroom, tossing an old rubber ball that was tucked away in one of the drawers and catching it as a small knock kept her from throwing it again.

"Come in." She said as she sat up. She turned to see Christoffel courteously opening the door, pausing to ensure she was decently clothed before fully entering.

"We're back."

"I can see that. Did you find the brat's family?"

"Yes thank the light. And a bit more." Chris spoke as he took a seat on the small plush bed they innocently shared the night before.

"What's up?" Shandori asked. Christoffel told her about their day and the conversation he had with Bodyl. Shandori's lips parted a little at the sound of 8000 gold caressing her hungry ears. Christoffel also expressed his concerns, noting that the strange sensation he'd felt during the conversation didn't fully abate even with a generous lunch.

"So, what are your thoughts?" Christoffel asked.

"Well…it would get us out of the area. But as far as I've heard that tree doesn't really have a public presence, its all interest groups. That could be trouble if we get caught."

"Bodyl says he has people on the inside that will be helping. He's basically asking for an escort to the gem while his people take care of any police force, cultists, or militia. My opinion, it's all a little off but the money…we're not going to see that much in a long, long time." Chris sighed. "That and he did mention that some trade workers and hired help may be fooled into helping the cultists…it may get messy."

"Does that bother you?"

"…honestly, yes. They're just there doing their job, trying to get by. I don't want to see people like that get hurt." Chris spoke trying to shrug the emotion in his voice off. Shandori's eyes were soft as she gave a firm nod.

"I get that, I really do. But here's the thing: they all CHOSE to be there. They could all do just as well walled off in Stormwind or Ironforge but there they are in an experimental tree-house. Just like we have a choice to either stay here for longer and maybe have things die down after a while, passing up an 8k gold base deal with commission or we can take our chances for a better payoff. If one of us dies on the job, well no once forced us to do it. If one of those workers takes you out because they think you're the enemy, well then that's on you. If you take one of them out because they're in the way, that's on them." Shandori spoke, trying her best not to escalate her tone to one of forceful persuasion. Christoffel slowly nodded with a semi-dark chuckle.

"Sorry, sometimes I let my former paladin get the better of me."

"…you were a paladin?"

"Y-Yes, didn't I ever tell you?"

"No. I never would have taken you for one of _those_ people." Shandori shrugged trying her best to hide her contempt for those most pious in their light working. But instead of offence or snide bitterness, the ever perceptive blood elf treated Shandori with a rare, honestly amused laugh. He placed a hand on her shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze.

"Only you would find it worse to be a paladin than a blood elf." He smiled, placing his hand back on the bed.

"What can I say? We're both elves and you can get into the war of the skin tones and all but I'd much rather you be a blood elf rogue than say, a night elf paladin."

"Night elves are paladins now?"

"There are a few weirdoes running around…I mean there have been tauren paladins for years, it was inevitable that a few priests would have taken up the 'collection plate.' I guess."

"What a terrible age we live in…"

"Ah-greed. Well anyway, back on topic, I vote we get our asses over there, chop down a tree, and collect ourselves 8k gold. I'll understand if you need some times to think things over. We may have an issue convincing Ima and the rest to come but I'll make up something convincing. I um, would rather not have to go there without some sane back up though so…" Shandori spoke, casting him a kind look in return for his previous concerns. They sat there in silence for a moment as the typical and inevitable aura that usual came from their private talks began to coalesce. Chris took a deep breath and closed his eyes before exhaling. He smiled and looked his business partner with a small, emotion-driven glow.

"Let's get packing."

* * *

STRAYDOG EXTRA: Letter from the author/ Title References/ Slash Sillys!

**Letter from the author**

Hello Straydog Readers,

Thanks for your long time support, reviews, and sticking with the story as it has reached well over 100k words. We're about to enter the second part of the story (I don't want to say "half" just because I really hope it wont take another 25 or so chapters to complete this thing…) and I would like to take a small intermission while I prepare to write a three part battle (raid) called "Secrets of Mydrassil" (10 man). While I write the chapters where Shandori, Christoffel and the gang chase after their promised rewards (shiny lewtz), it may take me a little longer than usual to post due to planning some loose end tying, raid mechanics, and EPIC (yes epic) surprises. Thanks again for staying with me and enjoy the extras!

Ori

**Title References**

As some of you may or not be aware, keeping with the Warcraftian tradition, there are tons of pop culture and cult culture references in the story. Some of the most blatant instances are the chapter titles, the majority of which are references to songs or bands. Below are all the title references, look them up on your music source of choice for some awesome tunes and a little extra insight into the chapters themselves. Look for more as the story goes on!

Flea 2: "Smooth Criminal" – Michael Jackson

Flea 3: "Stuck in the Middle with you" – Stealers Wheels

Flea 4: "Another One Bites the Dust" – Queen

Flea 5: "Salty Dog" – Flogging Molly

Flea 6: "Sweet Dreams are Made of This" – Eurhythmics (the ORIGINAL song)

Flea 7: "The King of Pain" – The Police

Flea 8: "Let the Bodies Hit the Floor" - Drowning Pool

Flea 9: "Prison Blues" a variation of Johnny Cash's "Folsom Prison Blues"

Flea 10: "The Chain" – Fleetwood Mac

Flea 15: "Arrival and the Reunion" – Dead Can Dance

Flea 18: "The Midnight Tree Growing Anywhere" – A reference and play on words to Journey's "Don't Stop Believing"

Flea 19: "The Bride with White Hair" – Awesome classic Chinese martial arts movie about a vengeful woman who fights for revenge. VERY sad but very well done.

Flea 20: "Spirits in the Material World" – The Police

Flea 21: "Don't Answer Me" – Alan Parson's Project (best to listen to this one LIVE, look for the CD cover that's blue with pink splotches on it)

Flea 23: "The Gem that's Truly Outrageous" – A reference to the early 80's girl's cartoon "Jem and the Holograms"

Flea 25: "The Cat's in the Cradle" - Harry Chapin

**Slash Sillys! (Straydog Jokes)**

Shandori

/ My mom and I don't really get along. She says I _warrior_ too much…

/ He says I gave him the _thunder-clap_? It's true. He seemed really _devastated_ by it. He hasn't _cleaved_ anyone since…

/ I was on this show once. I was called _"Horders"_

Christoffel

/ Arcane is one helluva drug…

/ Do I miss being a paladin? Not really. Now I can do it from behind guilt-free!

/ They call me "Stingblade" but don't worry baby, I'm clean…

Imajin

/ I wanted to go to Hogwarts…

/ My fetishes include feet, noses, bones, leather straps, stringed beads, and lots of duct tape. And those are just the ones in my bag!

/ Shrunken heads are no fun…

Keesha

/ Damn…I am _SOUL STONED_ right now…

/ Come on baby, don't fear the reaper…fear the rogue, paladin, and shaman…

/ Sure tons of warlocks enjoy cutting themselves, but I prefer cutting you.

Hanariel

/ What is the sound of one hand clapping?

/ Now where did I put that holy hand grenade…

/ Vanilla elf, elf baby…


	27. Flea 27: SoM Part 1

**Straydog Saga**

Flea 27: Secrets of Mydrassil Part 1: The Raven and the Roots

* * *

The silent night hung in the presence of Elune's symbol. No clouds concealed its brilliance or the activity below. The wyvern that carried the burden that was Highraven let out a disgruntled growl as it struggled to find its way over the vast moonlit ocean. The wind began to stir the closer she got to the mystic tree, which glowed of its own accord in the distance. The wyvern was capable of much faster speed but Highraven kept it in sync with the black, lightless dot below. The small boat, supposedly chartered by Bodyl and the representatives of his alchemist's guild, rose and fell with the wicked tide as those who floated with it felt their bones begin to rattle.

Shandori had convinced the group, with Christoffel's endorsement, to embark on the quest via the pulling of heart strings for those with kind souls and the tugging of purse strings for the rest. Even Maiev, with her intentions and mind locked away behind her haunted eyes, ventured with the rest of the sorted group via a chartered, privately owned hippogryph with to the dangerous shores of Azshara and onto the rocking boat that seemed to torment Shandori with every dip and rise. While the others rested comfortably in the boat's tiny cabin, the warrior was forced by her nervous and sea-battered stomach to linger near the edge with her face focused on the churning deep. She felt a hand on her back as she moved her face further over the edge with a lurch. Christoffel winced at the sight and sound.

"If you don't stop we'll have to fight a trail of sharks before we even get there." Chris joked as he moved to pull the afflicted night elf's hair back. She would have thanked him but a small wave hit the boat and caused a wave of another sort from within the depths of Shandori.

"I… fucking hate…the oceaNNUH" She heaved.

"Are you going to be able to do this?"

"Yuh, yah once… once I get somewhere solid." She spat with a dry heave. As the glowing beacon in the distance grew closer, Shandori felt her queasy stomach begin to settle just as her nerves began to quiver in its majesty. Though the trunk and branches were blinding to behold, the roots themselves were dark and dim in comparison.

The east dock was deserted as the Twilight's Hammer cultists planned. When the boat finally reached the tree-lit wooden platform, Shandori finally felt the welcomed sensation of solid wood beneath her boots. From the darkened root-made entrance came several cloaked figures dressed in mint colored fabric, rather than their usual violet and black. A single purple leaf on the back of their cloaks was the only adornment and easily missed clue to their true nature. One in their number, a human male, greeted them with a hushed tone.

"Lord Bodyl, I'm glad this humble one finds you well." Trenton spoke in the most demure tone he was capable of uttering. The young mage, both instrumental in facilitating the Twilight Hammer's plan as well as his mother's own subterfuge bowed his head.

"Is everyone in position?" Bodyl curtly spoke as the rest of his mercenaries disembarked from the vessel.

"Yes sir. You're clear to enter the roots. We've successfully disabled the roots' defense system for the next ten minutes. Any longer and it will sound a timed alarm. We will begin our assault on the trunk as soon as you give the word…"

"You will wait until we get to the Pinnacle Bough. Until then, only act in shadows is that understood?" Trenton bowed low with an apologetic nod.

"Yes sir. The trunk is quiet; all but the night watch are asleep. You should have no trouble…" Trenton moved as Bodyl called his mercenaries to him.

"I shall assist our agents within the trunk. Good luck, tend to their wounds should any befall them, my sister." Balumbra bowed as Pashima gave a smiling nod. Shandori looked to the beaming draenei and shook her head. She looked to Christoffel whose wide eyes mirrored her own thoughts.

"Are you sure she shouldn't go with you too? She might get hurt…" Christoffel interjected.

"My sister is more resilient than you think. She will be of great help, I can assure you." Balumbra gave a strained smile.

"We do not have time to discuss the matter; we must hurry before we are discovered." Bodyl hissed. The surly dwarf instructed his mercenaries to follow him into the gnarled depths. Ima felt a shutter from within one of her bags. She gently pat the container in which her Dryad's Delight named Herbert huddled among her reagents. The action did little to soothe the trembling plant or her own quivering heart. The sparse light hit the roots with a sinister sheen. Each shadow seemed like a lingering evil, each root a dagger waiting to strike. She felt a gentle hand come to her shoulder with a firm squeeze. Meryld smiled at the younger woman and gave her a quiet but reassuring nod.

Bodyl lead them through a gnarled and winding path with confident strides. The notes he studied from his subordinates mentioned the treacherous nature of the roots and their maze-like annals. He stopped frequently to check the detailed map, ensuring they were on the right path to the portals. Time ticked on as the group progressed into the heart of the Tangled Canal. Shandori twitched as an ice cold drop of water hit the tip of her left ear, causing her to audibly shiver. The action earned her a quick and sharp "shh!" from F-bomb who looked to the streaming, root-made walls with suspicion. Ima, who waded through the puddles in cloth shoes, could not help but mimic Shandori's action.

"This place is awful. I'm getting all cold and wet." Ima whispered as she desperately tried to avoid the cold puddles in the dim light.

"Who'a you talkin' to, bean-stalk?" F-bomb hissed as she found her own clothing soaked to mid-thigh. Her struggle to wade through the water made the floor around them ripple as Bodyl turned to silence the banter with a stern look. F-bomb felt a pair of strong blue hands lift her from her cold and watery enemy and place her in a sitting position on a pair of strong, upright shoulders.

"Better?" Ima asked with a kindly smile. F-bomb gave a thankful nod, trying not to drip onto Ima's fine feathered shoulder-mantle. As they approached what looked like a glowing dot at the end of a wide hallways Bodyl smirked.

"We're almost there, the portal is just…" Bodyl felt his tongue freeze. The water at their feet began to move. It was slow at first but as the seconds ticked by the rush nearly sent the group falling backwards. "Shit!"

"What's happening? I thought they disabled it!" Shandori shouted as the sandy ground beneath her boots began to dry. Ima quickly placed the goblin back on the ground, allowing her to summon a grounding totem in case hidden enemies tried to get in a quick strike.

"We must have tripped it somehow…or taken too long." Bodyl spoke as sweat began to pool on his brow. Two water elementals, that were twice as tall as Imajin, coalesced from the chilly water as their leader began to take shape. The massive water elemental, known to the root-workers as Mizuon, appeared in a swirling mass of water, debris, and root-made armor.

"Do you have an appointment? You cannot gain audience with my master unless you have an appointment…" Mizuon rumbled with his great glowing eyes made of arcane energy fixed on the dwarf and his mercenaries. Though Mizuon wore little more than eyes and a wooden mask for a face, his tone spoke to his bemused sarcasm.

"We have an appointment with reckoning. Your master will pay for his ambition!" Bodyl shouted, causing Mizuon to utter a strange, fluid chuckle.

"The master spoke of your coming, lowly dwarf. Prepare to be expunged!" Mizuon roared as he lifted his great hand like appendages in summoning. As Mizuon focused on its spell, the two smaller but still imposing water elementals mounted an attack. The group scrambled to avoid bolts of pure ice as they crashed into the surrounding root wall, cutting through the wooden walls like sharp arrows. Shandori's brow furrowed as she felt one of the icy bullets graze her cheek. She dodged the projectiles, allowing only one to strike her weathered shield as she began hacking at the closest elemental. The angered being stopped shooting at her associates and focused all its efforts on removing the night elf from its proximity.

"Get it!" She shouted as the remainder of her force quickly got over their shock to take up arms against the water warriors. She motioned to the other elemental that was still shooting vicious barbs at the rest of her group. Maiev, ever observant, followed Shandori's lead. Though she had no shield and her muscles were still a little sore from her last big encounter, her agile movements made her a very difficult target, even for the fluid strikes of a water elemental. With both elementals occupied, the rest of the group split and began chipping away at the elemental soldiers as the watery warriors desperately tried to buy time for Mizuon's summoning spell.

While those who used blades found it difficult to make any headway with their slushy strikes, Imajin and F-bomb's vicious spells seemed to batter the elementals with explosive damage. Water droplets burst from their wavering forms as the water elementals struggled to keep themselves together. Shandori could feel her shoulder begin to ache as a steady pain in her swinging arm made it progressively harder to maintain her brutal assault. The elemental's attention seemed to shift to Ima, whose arcane blasts seemed to aggravate it far more than Shandori's hacking swings.

"Ima, lay off a minute!" Shandori cried as the water elemental turned to return a volley of icy shards to the troll mage. But a hard chop to the area where its eyes should have been brought the water-warrior's attention back to Shandori. It was then that Shandori felt a familiar energy wash over her. Potan had cast a nature spell that bolstered her arm and healed the tearing muscles within. She could feel her energy and strength slowly return the longer his spell lasted.

"Potan, heal Maiev, she needs it more! Pashima, if you can heal, keep an eye on me instead." Shandori instructed, not turning to see if the pair did as she said. It wasn't until Shandori felt the strange energy of Pashima's healing on her aching back did she know her words were headed. She didn't have time to process what felt like healing power as the water elemental swung its heavy arm at her head. Shandori knew what the light of night elf priests felt like, but Pashima's energy felt distorted and heavy. Despite the strange sensation, Pashima's healing was more than enough to keep the warrior going as each strike seemed to slowly deform the fading elemental.

"Ours is almost dead, pick it up ova there!" F-bomb shouted as the focus of her attacks seemed unable to keep itself together for much longer.

"What's it matter?" Shandori asked.

"The elementals aren't made'a meat. If one dies before the other the other does, it can suck up the dead water and heal itself. If both die at once, they're just water!" F-bomb informed while casting what looked like a bolt of molten rock. Shandori nodded and rallied those on her elemental to pick up the pace. Though F-bomb's elemental died first, Christoffel deftly kicked the still living elemental as it tried to cast a spell that would consume its fallen comrade. Before the elemental could try again, its physical form was destroyed, leaving nothing but wetness in its wake.

"It is done; they shall not go in vain!" Mizuon shouted as he concluded the summoning spell. He eerily cackled as four tall, writhing roots burst from the sandy floor. "Feel the burden of the roots and despair!" Mizuon shouted as the freshly summoned roots began to blindly slash and jab at their targets. The group scrambled in their attempt to avoid the terrible strikes. During the chaos, the roots landed targets, each lifted from the ground and tossed around like rag dolls. All four found themselves enchased in thick bubbles as those remaining struggled to free them.

"E-Everyone get on them one at a time! We can get them down faster that way." Christoffel shouted as the remaining group began collectively hacking on the nearest root. As the roots constricted around their fragile forms, the four victims felt their minds slip to another time, a time each of them wished dearly to forget.

* * *

The first victim was taken to a hazy jungle. The island, located off the coast of Durotar was beginning to burn. A vicious witch doctor and his cohorts were destroying the homes of innocent trolls, forcing them out of their promised lands and into early graves. One tiny girl struggled to breathe in the thick smoke as the screams of her friends and family woke her from her usual nap.

"Ima, Ima get up, now! We need ta go!" The desperate mother called, bringing her daughter to the floor where the smoke was thinnest. The toddler clung to her mother's breast, trying to make sense of the terrible scene.

"Mama, where be Gogo?" Ima coughed as her mother crawled from their small hut and into the chaos. Ima's child mind drifted to her childhood "boyfriend" who she was supposed to visit after her nap. Despite his constant teasing and their mutual "frenemy" relationship her little heart beat wildly when the image of his small-tusked face could not be seen in the smoky carnage.

"Gogo's safe, just keep your head down, now!" Ima's mother did her best to keep her voice gentle as a body came down beside them. Ima's mother screamed as she ran into the jungle. Ima knew what terrible monsters lurked there, as her mother always warned her about them whenever she asked to play among the hidden raptors and tigers, but little Ima's mother seemed more scared of whatever caused the terrible fire. It was then Ima spotted a small family running beside them. Among the small collective was her beloved playmate. She gave him a smile and a wave, ignorant to the danger they were all in and pouted when the slightly older boy did not respond.

"Tiny Tusk! You so rude!" She shouted, her mother holding her head down. She tried to protest, eyes darting back to the other family.

"Shut up elf face!" the young boy managed to joke amidst his family's terror. Ima's innocent eyes were forever stained with the blood of her loved ones as a large javelin like spear came from the village, striking the other mother in the chest. The woman went down with a sickened thud. Her life mate could do nothing for her as he huddled his children around and begged them to keep running. When another terrible weapon came to strike the grieving father down, his children were left to cry and scramble among the dead. Ima's mother called to them to follow but she did not slow down.

"Gogo!" Ima called reaching behind as if to pull the crying boy to her. But he disappeared into the smoke, just as her mother reached the shore where several boats were waiting. Ima cried as the boys never emerged from the tall tropical trees, squirming in her mother's grasp. But the tiny girl was held tight, drifting away form everything she knew.

But just as the tiny Ima tried to leap from her mother's strong arms, the present Ima hit the sandy floor with a thud. Her mind was spinning as fresh tears streamed down her bruised cheek. Foggy voices called to her as a pale hand shook her into focus. She felt a strange spell wash over her. It seemed heavy, almost as if liquid metal was being pumped through her veins. But in a matter of seconds the friendly and worried face of Pashima came into clear focus. The draenei helped her to her feet as the group began freeing the next victim who also found themselves trapped in their memories.

* * *

The second victim was treated to a fog of darkness and muffled voices. When Marcus Mason came to, he was startled by two grave-faced men who seemed to be studying him. He was accustomed to waking up in the stocks with a mild hangover but nothing prepared him for the strange sensations he now endured.

"He's awake." Someone grumbled.

"I had to give him a double dose of the potion…it's a miracle he's not dead."

"A double what…" Marcus coughed; his voice seemed deeper, hoarser than he'd ever sounded in his life. He ran his long tongue along his now dagger-like fangs as his amber eyes went wide. He strained to look at his feet, which were now massive paws. He looked to his hands to see they too had transformed into claws capable of tearing into flesh as if it were made of curdled cream. He frantically tried to remember what had happened. The last thing he could recollect was coming home from the pub to find the city on high alert. When he arrived at his home, Marcus found his wife, Eliza, fully dressed and his young son oddly awake. In his haze he vaguely remembered his frantic wife quickly telling him about what was happening but his drunken mind struggled to register the danger they were in.

"What…" Marcus mumbled as his mind continued to replay the events. Once his wife had gathered their things she helped him back into his smoky coat, which he was starting to take off when he arrived at their modest home, and hurried him out the door. She led them on the main street in the direction of his mother-in-law's home when they were attacked by great furry shadows. The last thing he could recall was a pair of teeth coming down on his arm and a seeing pain that cause his mind and consciousness to give out.

"You can talk then, can you creature?" One of the men, a gray haired fellow in a top hat sneered.

"Where's my boy?" Marcus asked. Try as he might, he could not remember what had become of his small angel-faced son with eyes that matched his own, when he was human. "WHERE'S MY BOY!" He roared causing the gentler looking gentleman in tattered robes to wince. He desperately looked between them, eyes resting on the nobleman known to the good people of Gilneas as Lord Godfry.

Godfry and his patrol had shot the worgen responsible for placing the terrible curse on the Mason family and brought the two "tainted" adults to be treated. He collected the trembling youngster and, after carefully obtaining his name, placed Marcus James Mason Jr. in the care of his maternal grandmother. The old woman, who admired Godfry's poise and mirrored his attitude of her fallen children, took the pure boy in and gave Godfry detailed instructions on what to say to the tainted Masons should they find themselves conscious. The horrific instructions only served to put a much needed smile on the nobleman's face.

"Tragic, really. We should wait until he's more stable to…"

"You'll tell me NOW old man! Or I swear when I get out of 'ere I'll-"

"You'll what? It is by my mercy alone that you still live, beast." Godfry scoffed. "Poor child. He never stood a chance in the presence of such a wild mongrel…" Marcus felt a chill flow through him. He stammered as did his best to shake his head in disbelief.

"N-No…"

"Ah, don't remember that part do you? It was quite messy. One more terrible image I'll never get out of my head." Godfry snorted, trying not to laugh in delight over the wonderfully wicked woman's false story. Before the worgen who would come to be known as Daggerfang could relive the pained howl that erupted from his very soul he too felt reality crash into him as he hit a sandy floor. The room was spinning but sturdy hands found him.

"Get up!" Christoffel shouted, hoisting the beast to his feet just as the remains of the root that bore him came crashing right where his head would have been. "We have to get the others."

"R-Right." Daggerfang spoke with a ghostly emptiness as the two rogues began helping the others break the third victim free.

* * *

The third victim found herself in her old living room. It was lavishly decorated with all the finest curios and knickknacks goblin gold could buy. She had put her youngest to bed several hours prior and waited with a small cup of gnomish cocoa. The clock ticking in the background was her only companion. The occasional cricket would make comment as she stared at the tarnished ring in her hands. It was an object that used to bring tears of joy to her eyes whenever she looked at it. Now the hole that used to bear her ring finger threatened to burn a permanent void in her chest.

The door slowly opened. The outline of an ear listening for signs of life could be seen from where she sat. The goblin man came in and snuck through the living room as quietly as his roguish feet could muster. But the smell of whiskey and another woman's perfume screamed in the quiet night.

"Back so soon? Did she get bored with you?" Fabrizzia's voice was flat as she stared at the diamond in her grip. The sneaking goblin froze and turned to the kitchen where a dim candle burned. He walked in and did his best to stand up straight.

"Oh ah—H-Hey there Fabi. What are you doing up so late?"

"Don't play nice with me when you're wearing someone else's perfume like a FUCKIN BLANKET." She shouted, tears beginning to stream down her face. "That's Candy's perfume you CREEP! I was with 'er when she BOUGHT IT!"

"You're crazy!" he shouted with a slight slur.

"I've had it with you! You told me last time you were gunna stop!" She shouted, causing little Moe to wake and start to cry. Her elder two sons, both only a few years old themselves, sat listening by the stairs.

"What? A guy works all day long for his family and he can't have a little fun now and again? What's the big deal, she don't even mean nothing to me…" He froze. The alcohol mixed with hubris finally brought the truth. After years of suspicion, worry, and lonely nights Fabrizzia Bomberlock-Tognozzle took the expensive ring her husband presented to her all those years before and threw it at his feet. At the ring spun and came to rest on the cold floor, F-bomb came careening into the present once more. She screamed in fright and confusion as two sets of hands lifted her up before the group moved on to the last root.

* * *

The final victim walked between two rows of freshly harvested souls. Each body was hidden beneath pristine white cloth. She had survived many battles, including the one that claimed so many valorous lives. She felt numb from more than just the bitter winds and biting snow as her eyes focused on the empty space before her. She came to the end of the row where a Quel'Dorei nurse with a notepad waited. The Quel'dorei woman gently spoke to the younger human whose eyes seemed miles away.

"Your name, my lady?"

"Meryld Filmore."

"Who are you here to see?" The Quel'Dorei nurse opened the book of the dead and awaited the name. The scene was already beginning to shift as the group had three more in their employ to cut down the root that bore her. She felt tears escape her young eyes as she spoke the name of her beloved. The whispered name could not be heard as Meryld was taken from the root. Real tears came as Shandori and Maiev helped her to her feet.

"That the best you got?" Shandori shouted to Mizuon who crossed his arms and chuckled to himself.

"It is so easy to say for one who is unmarred by the roots. Why not ask your comrades, little one?" Mizuon verbally smirked. Shandori could feel Meryld trembling in her grasp as those who were touched by the roots seemed to exude a palpable sorrow. The will to fight had diminished in their eyes but their weapons and their spells were still able to be wielded if coaxed. "At any rate, I tire of this banal banter." Mizuon proclaimed as he summoned a glowing sword from within the swirling debris on his form.

"I was thinking the same thing." Shandori spat before charging in with renewed resolve. Pashima and Potan cast their mutual healing spells on the brazen warrior as those who were not root-touched equally charged in behind her. Those who were affected by their poisonous memories conducted a lack-luster effort but still managed to make a small dent in the great water elemental. Mizuon grunted at Bodyl's fighting force and summoned arcane pools of water beneath their feet. Shandori felt a surge of energy beneath her as small bolts of lightning began to scorch her flesh.

"MOVE!" she shouted as she ran around Mizuon, hoping the strange water would not follow. Most of the others followed suit but Imajin lingered in the pool, desperate to finish a complicated and lengthy fire spell. The pool beneath her began to grow, the longer she stood in its shimmering light the bigger it got.

"IMA MOVE!" Shandori shouted as the mammoth fireball finally burst from the troll's fingers. The steam it produced nearly choked those who fought close to Mizuon who groaned in pain. When Ima finally moved out of the water pool, there was very little safe ground to stand on. She tripped over an uneven spot on the sandy floor and fell forward, flat on her face.

"T-Tired." She panted, sweat soaking her form as struggled to stand again. F-bomb ran to her side and helped to troll up as Potan concentrated all of his focus on the ground around them.

"Goodness of the fertile earth, come to our aid!" Potan roared as tiny beams of light began trickling upwards. The whole group found whatever ailed them to be removed as the tranquil energy healed cuts on the flesh and of the spirit. Ima stood again, brushed the wet sand from her robes and continued her arcane and fiery assault. Mizuon felt his body begin to falter. He used a good portion of his strength to summon more arcane pools but the group knew what to expect. After several moments of valiant effort, Mizuon felt himself slip back to the elemental plane.

"I am, dry…" He hissed as the debris in its once mighty form was all that remained. They group stood, some falling to their knees, and began to recoup.

"Can we sit for a moment?" Christoffel asked before turning to look to a sweaty and panting Bodyl. The dwarf nodded, insisting they take no more time than was necessary as the group began to quench thirsts and bandage larger wounds. Shandori wasted no time sifting through the debris for any treasure, finding a glowing sword, the remains of a mighty elemental crown, and a glowing petrified root. She brought the objects to Imajin and Bodyl who studied the artifacts and found them to be of great worth.

After some negotiations, exchanging of gold, and other favors, Shandori found the glowing blue sword to be a great upgrade to her plain metal weapon. F-bomb fashioned the remains of Mizuon's great crown into a belt that seemed to increase her ability to cast elemental spells with greater speed. The petrified root, which was imbued with arcane energy, went to Ima to be made into a powerful fetish.

"We should move on. That was likely to get someone's attention." Bodyl gruffly spoke as his eyes desperately clung to the portal that was only a few steps away.

"Let's get going then, everyone good?" Shandori asked, looking to the four memory-stricken members. The youthful Ima nodded as her thoughts came back to the present. The elder three choked down the bitter pain and continued on without complaint. The group collected themselves and ran towards the portal to the trunk without further interruption.

"Enter the portal in pairs, in case of arcane traps or anomalies. If one of you gets stuck, the other can pull you out." Bodyl reasoned. With that, Bodyl and Daggerfang leapt in first, followed by F-bomb and Maiev. Potan and Meryld followed, allowing Ima and Pashima to jump in behind them. Just as Shandori and Christoffel ran towards the glowing arcane door, Christoffel felt something tug on the back of his cloak, nearly choking him as he was sent flailing backwards.

"Chris!" Shandori shouted trying to back peddle, but the portal already had her in its grip, sending her to the trunk of the tree alone. Christoffel fell backwards, deftly avoiding a swift kick to the stomach by a black-leather boot.

"Y-You!" Christoffel rasped as his green orbs met ones drenched in a bloody-red glow. "How the hell?"

"I followed you, of course. How fortunate that water beast didn't kill you." Highraven sweetly spoke as she grasped her twin daggers. Christoffel reached for the hidden throwing knife loosely buried in his boot.

"They said you were dead." Chistoffel recalled Shandori's telling of the events in Felwood.

"That's the funny thing about being Forsaken. Just because we're dead at the moment doesn't mean we stay that way, bastard!" She hissed, throwing a poisonous barb from one of her side pockets at his head. Christoffel bobbed to the side, avoiding the deadly strike before leaping forward to deliver his own. He tossed his throwing knife at his assailant only to have it deftly blocked by the broad side of a dagger. Using the left over momentum, Christoffel quickly grasped both of his daggers and thrust them forward. The mutilating strike was blocked and countered, nearly slicing off one of his ears. The pair exchanged a glinting barrage of deft cuts and jabs before Christoffel managed to garner enough space between them to land a hard kick to Highraven's stomach. While there was no breath to be taken from the dark ranger, the attack did send her to her back. But the position only lasted a few seconds before the nimble banshee was back on her feet.

"What do you want from me!" Christoffel shouted, wiping the small cut on his lip. Highraven's bloody vision narrowed. She grinded her teeth slightly as she spoke.

"You robbed me, Stingblade. You robbed me of my life, my beauty, and my pride. All for WHAT? So you can run around with some Alliance WHORE? What would your mother say?"

"You leave her out of this…" Christoffel growled, as the heat in his chest began to show in his red face.

"Oh, struck a nerve did I? You know she looked upon me as a daughter…until her beloved son arrived. And now you dishonor her so. I will have your blood for that!" Highraven spoke with poisonous precision. Her eyes went wide as a booming laughter and a small tear broke from within the rogue, rather than an expected rage-filled strike. The building anger within turned to calm amusement as he looked at her with spiteful eyes.

"My mother looked upon you like a little dog that wanted a treat, barking endlessly until she got a pat on the head. I bet you're so far up Sylvannas' ass she sends you to the front lines as often as my mother did…" Christoffel smirked at the opportunity as he struck, sending a bewildered and outraged Highraven on the defensive. Christoffel could feel something long buried begin to emerge. Something buried in his mind had sprouted in his time with Shandori and their growing collective. Each deft and controlled strike was barely blocked by the relic of the past, each step she took backed her into a corner. As the pair did battle the scene began to shift. The roots around them began to stir and seemingly take notice. They loosely swayed, whispering strange nothings as the fight between Christoffel and Highraven continued.

"You can't win, 'Stingblade.' I made you and I can un-make you!" Highraven shouted as flashes of their past began to stir in her mind. The balance of the battle shifted as fond memories tarnished by a death in servitude gave Highraven new resolve. She managed to land a hard strike to his midsection. His tough leather armor barely stopped the dagger from entering his gut. The roots swayed in anticipation, like blood-hungry spectators watching gladiators battle to the death. Christoffel was starting to fade as his life force acted like a weight around his straining neck. Drops of hot sweat joined the tepid sandy water beneath their boots. His lungs started to burn in his chest, as all he could hear in his clogged ears was his own labored breaths and thundering heart. Highraven grinned with delight as her un-living vigor knew no bounds. It was then one of the roots acted, grazing the back of Christoffel's leg.

A familiar scent came to his nose like a spring morning mist. It was the smell of expensive, high quality berry juice. He began to taste it on his parched tongue as the hints of rose, blueberry, and other invigorating flavors seemed to trickle into his senses. It was the same flavor he was treated to when Shandori held his broken form and poured the soothing liquid into his throat upon their first meeting. The sound of her crass voice, the sight of those sad eyes whenever he was in pain, the rare smiles that she only seemed to give him came to Christoffel like a rallying call.

Images of that night they shared jokes and smiles over the goblin bed streamed to his eyes like a water color painting over a grey day. Christoffel felt her beating heart and sleeping breath come to him as it did the morning he awoke with her still dressed but emotionally naked in his arms. A glow that had not graced Christoffel since he fell from the light's embrace emboldened him as he remembered the glorious feeling of her forehead on his quiet lips. Christoffel gripped his daggers with a new wind in his steps and came at Highraven with a roar. He easily blocked her seemingly feeble blows and in one powerful motion, cut her left hand clean off. He thrust both daggers into her chest with such force that it not only penetrated Highraven's toughened armor but her breastplate as well. Christoffel did not bother to pull the weapons out as he swiftly kicked her to the floor, placing one boot on her throat as black blood gurgled in her mouth.

"I buried you once. I'll bury you again." He softly growled with power and terrifying certainty in his voice. Highraven laughed and tried to speak but Christoffel's boot impeded her efforts. But before Christoffel could move to reclaim his daggers the shifting roots moved in the darkness. They came from the floor around the pair, causing him to instinctively stumble back. The strange creatures seemed to have no interest in the breathing rogue as they consumed the struggling dark ranger. She fought against them as the constricted around her like hungry snakes. Before they smothered her beneath their girth, Highraven managed to shout obscenities and curses at her former comrade.

"Death will not stop me do you here? I'll come back; I'll come back until you're in the ground, DO YOU HEAR!" She hissed as loudly as her injuries would allow. The roots in the ground began to pass Highraven to their fellows, until she was taken away from the scene, allowing a shaken Christoffel to finally take the portal to the upper trunk, without his weapons.

Highraven continued to struggle against her bonds, unable to see where the roots were transporting her. She could hear the crashing of waves and, if she were still alive, would have smelled the briny sea water. As one of the roots dug into the flesh of her arm, a voice came to her grey ears.

"You are done now. Rest." It gently spoke. Highraven saw the roots that bound her begin to glow a brilliant gold. At first she felt nothing but then, with a strange pull, lungs long filled with rotting blood began to rise and fall. A corroded heart began to beat. Grey skin became a healthy peach with long lost blonde locks draping over it like rays of pure sunlight. The sensation of thousands of tiny needles with threads attacked, stitching her body, caused her to scream. The hand she had lost only moments before was restored, as thousands of speeding lines seemed to pass through her.

When the sensation stopped, the living Highraven felt small, natural tears stream down her face. She shook her head as the roots began to lower her to the churning sea. For the first time since her unholy resurrection, she felt the sensation of cold on her back, wetness slowly taking her form, and fear sinking into her fast-beating heart. As the roots held her beneath the waves, she kicked and squirmed, wanting to scream, if not for the loss of breath that would come. When they reached the blackest depths, the roots tightened, forcing final bubbles to burst from her beautiful Elvin lips. The pressure crushed her bones as fresh red blood mingled with the blue deep in a violet plume. When the only movement came from the sea's chaotic current…the roots returned alone.


	28. Flea 28: SoM Part 2

**Straydog Saga**

Flea 28: Secrets of Mydrassil Part 2: The Whitebranch Strikes Back

* * *

Hanariel shifted a little in his sleep. The warm body beside him had become a welcome change to the usual mass of crumpled cold sheets. He smiled as no devilish dreams dared take him from the comforting deepness of restful bliss. The mass of scar tissue where his right arm used to be no longer served as a constant reminder of terrible tragedy, but a means to let his beloved get all the closer. Keesha's golden runes gently hummed against his pale skin as the night began its slow assent into the infinite sky.

But just as the first of the birds nesting outside their night-bathed window began their singing ritual, a blaring horn came from the upper bough. Strange buds burst from the top of walls in a line, opening into pale lavender flowers. As the horn's mighty sound came again and again, purple crystals from within the opened blooms began to pulsate in time with the alarm. There was no more rest for the twin mystics as both sets of golden eyes opened and could not find the ability to shut again.

"Wh-What the hell is that?" Keesha groggily asked while rubbing one of her eyes. She cast a sleepy but concerned look to Han, whose fuzzy vision begged for the aid of his glasses. Once in full focus, the flowers' violet alarm made him gasp and scramble to his feet.

"A code violet."

"I-It can't be…" Keesha yawned as she watched Han collect the lightly colored clothes from their randomly deposited place on the floor and furniture.

"It is. We need to go." Han said as the waking panic began to pulse through him as readily as his own blood. Keesha gave him a doubt-filled look but began collecting and adorning what little clothing she usually wore. When the pair was fully dressed, they made their way into the dormitory hall. All along the top of the long hallway were the same lavender flowers, glaring along with the blaring horn. Others were beginning to emerge from their rooms, armor on and weapons readied.

"Damn…" Keesha shook her head as she and Han joined the group of mages, druids, priests, and other guests of Lady Whitedeer and made their way into the upper bough's designated emergency spots, which they had all visited in days past during a routine monthly drill. But instead of the care-free sound of crowd-bustle and giggling gossip, only the thunderous herd's collective roar came as the crowd split by designated standing area.

Meanwhile, from the deepest room within the Pinnacle Bough, a frazzled Orifiel swiftly walked in her finest battle garb towards her own spot within the upper bough trade district. Beside her was Trenton, who quickly gave his report.

"Have they gotten to the Pinnacle Bough?"

"No, mother. But the rats have finally left the nest. Our people in the trunk are fighting them off but we need to get the civilians to safety. Lord Stormrage and his associates are already down there."

"Where are Romulus and Seth?"

"R-Romulus is in the shrine…"

"What the HELL IS HE DOING DOWN THERE?" Orifiel boomed, casting a look to Trenton that made him flinch.

"F-Father sent him there with his mages to protect the area. Father is with the shamans, with the gem."

"Oh for Elune's SAKE I'm going to slap that man. What's happening with Bodyl?" Orifiel grunted as a small group of druids went running past in the direction of the trade district. Although she wore her usual thick-fur adorned reindeer mask, the sound of the horn and the flashing violet light was beginning to give the steward a headache.

"Mizuon is fighting the mercenaries off as we speak, hopefully he'll be able to stop them…or at least last long enough for us to mobilize the White Branch…" Trenton panted, as his shorter legs struggled to keep up with his mother's commanding strides.

"I'm going to have to do this myself, aren't I?" she growled. Trenton's instincts to come back with a cheeky answer were quelled by his equally potent need for self-preservation. It was then that a familiar clacking sound came from behind. Orifiel turned to see the usually cheery Violetina, running towards them with seriousness etched in her sweaty features.

"Ori! Ori, what happens?" She panted, as Orifiel and Trenton slowed their pace.

"We are under attack by The Twilight's Hammer."

"B-But we crush tem! Tey dead." Violetina huskily spoke. Her wide eyes searched for any hint of a joke within the brooding priestess but could find none.

"Apparently not. Violet, how are the shamans fairing? Are they in emergency positions?"

"Yes. Lord Nightgaze helps wit safety procedure. He send me to help you." Violetina nodded. Orifiel sighed without the ability to hide her annoyance. The slightly hurt look on her friend and comrade's face gave Orifiel enough pause to quickly nod in apology but little else.

"So be it then. Trenton, I need to you to get to the nursery and get Inge. After that find Keesha and Han and get them all to safety. It's imperative that the High Mystics not be harmed. They should be in their assigned spots, look for their glow in the southern quarter. Violet, come with me." Orifiel ordered. With a bow, Trenton hurried off, taking a short-cut to the southern end while Orifiel and Violet made their way to the center of the upper bough. There was a great branch-made building that stood tall enough for those who dwelled within to see the entire upper bough if they stood on one of its balconies.

Orifiel, Violet, and a number of aides stood at the most prominent balcony, cut from another large branch at the top of the building. They were able to be seen from all of the people below, but only Orifiel could be heard when she spoke.

"White Branch, HEAR ME!" Her voice carried like thunder in a hushed field. All minor conversations were silenced.

"You are all here because the alarm has rung true. We are under attack…" She paused for only a moment to let her words sink in before continuing.

"The Twilights Hammer has been eating away at my home, at YOUR HOME like termites in the dark. Our brothers and sisters in the lower trunk already fight them. I ask of you, those with the knowledge and training: go to the civilians who dwell below, render aide, and get them to the flight decks. If the decks are bare, use the emergency portals and get them to the docks. Those who can take up arms, go to the trunk and fight. There will be griffons, hippogryphs, and wyverns at the ready to take you bellow. North and East quarters head to the eastern flight deck. West and south head west and take the animals there. Go now; there is no time to waste!" Orifiel ordered. The group said nothing as they obeyed. Orifiel motioned for Violetina and the rest of her small, priestly entourage to follow. She briefly noted that one in their number was missing. Orifiel did not turn when she addressed one of the priestesses.

"Where is Iona?"

"She is on her way my lady, her daughter…"

"Lady Whitedeer!" Another voice, a male voice, called. Orifiel did not stop her progression but turned her head to see a night elf hunter running to her side with a large, striped frostsaber in tow.

"What are you doing here, Morion is it?"

"I apologize my lady. My mother-in-law sent me in her stead…"

"Why would she do that?" Orifiel growled, face going purple with agitation.

"M-My wife is in labor and cannot be moved. Lady Iona with her now. I-I was not allowed to stay per custom s-so she thought my assistance would be of value to you." Morion nodded with a pang of sadness. He could not be there for the premature birth of his child, but in the energy of the moment Morion managed to banish any thought that his son might perish in the midst of the emergency. Orifiel cursed at the seemingly horrid timing. But the Pinnacle Bough was full of emergency portals, in case the situation turned dire. Orifiel gave a forceful sigh, but did not send the hunter away.

"Then stay close and do your best to stay alive down there, boy. I will not make your wife a widow or your child fatherless." Orifiel grunted, causing Morion to gratefully bow his head. They had no idea what awaited them in Mydrassil's trunk, but all of the valiant White Branch members stepped into the glowing portals without hesitation.

* * *

The trunk was in utter chaos. Shandori was nearly sent backwards into the portal from which she came as a small body careened into her legs. One of the mint-cloaked fighters, a gnome in stature, met his fate at the hands of one of the Mydrassil civilians. The human bartender, armed with little else than a broken whiskey bottle and a drinking stein managed to bludgeon and stab his attackers, drop-kicking the smallest among them, before succumbing to a barrage of dark spells.

The usually cheerful halls were awash with mayhem, the sounds of commerce replaced with the roar of battle. The mercenaries wasted no time in joining the fray. They dodged bar stools, serving trays, artisan's tools, and all manner of makeshift weaponry as they progressed towards their destination, which seemed miles away in the churning current of battle.

Christoffel, having lost his weapons in the fight with Highraven, had no choice but to fight with his hands, hoping to grab some workable refuse that might have been dropped by a fallen contractor. He felt a whirl of wind coming to his back as one of the White Branch defenders brought their sword down upon him. The blow was blocked by Shandori's steady buckler and countered with her new, elemental sword.

"Stay close!" Shandori grunted as she slashed the attacker across the stomach, cutting open his leather armor as if it were made of parchment. Another slashing motion and the night elf attacker was on the ground. "What happened to your daggers?"

"Long story."

"Stay hidden 'til you can grab something to fight with." Shandori shouted over the sounds of clanging steel and cracking bones. Christoffel, who was never well versed in the art of hand to hand combat, took the advice. The group of mercenaries did their best to stay together in their progression but found themselves splintering off in the fray.

Ima and F-bomb managed to stay close while flinging fire, frost, arcane blasts, and other elemental attacks. F-bomb dropped one of her tiny mechanical totems, causing several mages and druids to become sluggish in their steps. They desperately tried to lash out at the device but found themselves under constant electrical assault from her chain lightning spell. When the totem was finally cracked in two under a tauren's huge hoof, Ima compensated with a frost spell.

Tendrils of ice quickly crept from her touch to those enemies who remained standing. Their feet were quickly stuck to the floor. She raised her hands up and summoned a hail cloud, pelting those beneath with hail the size of tiki masks. The victims of her attack could do little else but shield their heads with their bruised arms. Ima felt beads of sweat begin to fall from the corners of her forehead despite the frigid ice flying from her finger tips. It was then Ima felt a sharp pain cut into her shoulder. She screamed as the metal arrowhead dug into her flesh, interrupting her spell and causing F-bomb to pick up her assault. Another arrow came, nicking Ima's earlobe and sending one of her long, metal earrings to the floor.

"Girlie!" F-bomb grunted and turned to fling a molten ball of pain behind them, narrowly missing the adept ranger and her young companion. To her dismay, the blonde quel'dorei recovered in a matter of seconds and sent another arrow their way. F-bomb's arm nearly broke under the force of the strike, but her metal gauntlet was enough to send the projectile ricocheting in a less deadly direction and rendered little more than a deep bruise on her forearm.

"Stand down or my next arrow won't miss." Vareesa Windrunner assured, pulling back another finely crafted Elvin arrow. Anduin Wrynn was at her side, holy book open and healing spells at the ready.

"Like hell I will; go die in a fire!" F-bomb shouted, tossing another mechanical totem from her pouch. In a matter of seconds a huge fire elemental roared to life and with burning zeal began its assault on the pair. "You fix um good, Tony!" F-bomb smirked as she ran to the fallen mage. She checked the injuries and found Ima's tears to be more motivated by fear than actual pain. She pulled the arrow from the troll's shoulder and quickly issued a healing spell. Though it was weak compared to a more trained healing shaman, it was more than enough to seal the wound, if not leave it a bit tender to the touch.

"Can ya still cast with it?"

"I-I can I think so."

"Good 'cause Big Tony ain't gunna last much longah." F-bomb informed as the roaring elemental seemed to be loosing steam. Despite its waning time outside the elemental plane, each slash and claw forced the pair of alliance adepts apart. Vareesa's keen arrows either burned up or passed through his massive form. Anyone who tried to aide the pair found themselves alight. Ima turned to watch the battle, admiring the elf's skill for a moment before her eyes went wide.

"It can't be…" She blinked in the smoky air. Sure enough she had seen the blue tabard, confident expression, and long pale blonde hair before. In her short time as a student in Dalaran Ima had heard many a motivational speech from the embattled ranger, despite her true trollish form. While in disguised as a gnome she was privileged enough to be in the company of great mages of legend and their cohorts. "That's Lady Windrunner!"

"Who?"

"We've got to warn them about the Twilights!"

"Uh, HELLO! They're trying to kill us, remember?" F-bomb shouted as Tony's massive form began to falter.

"They think we're the bad guys, that's why." Ima stood, wincing a little at the soreness in her shoulder. She did her best to avoid further attack as she made her way towards Anudin and Vareesa.

"Are you NUTS?" F-bomb rasped as a dwarf brandishing two striking hammers swung at her head. With a growl, she shot the dwarf with an earth spell, sending him flying backwards. Seemingly unfazed, the dwarf blacksmith known as McGowan rose again with a smirk. He and his fellow smiths had been among the first to react when the alarm rung out and he had the cuts and bruises as proof.

"That hurt." McGowan grunted and charged, swinging the heavy hammers as quickly as he would his own fists. Barely able to block and counter, let alone stop her companion in her pursuit, F-bomb didn't protest further as Ima continued her progression towards her would be slayers. Ima managed to dodge a fallen warrior, who she nearly tripped over, as she made her way to the soot-covered ranger and her paladin companion.

"L-Lady Winrunner!" Ima slowly approached the air with empty hands raised. Seconds later there was a keen blade at her throat. "P-Please listen! You're making a mistake." Ima screeched as a small trickle of warm wetness began to trickle from the blade. "Y-You're helping the Twilights! We're trying to stop them!"

"R-Rubbish." Vareesa hissed as she pressed the blade deeper into Ima's flesh. The young mage closed her eyes and awaited oblivion as a young paladin's gauntlet stopped the blade from cutting too deep. Vareesa cast Anduin a stern look as he shook his head.

"You better be telling the truth, girl." Anduin spoke with a rare, almost fatherly tone. The sound caused Vareesa to relent

"I am! I am, please!" Ima said with tears pooling in her arm orange gaze. When the knife was moved, only a small but still painful cut remained.

"Speak quickly." Anduin commanded, as he struck a mint-cloaked attacker in the face with his healing weapon. "Quickly!"

Ima spoke as fast as her tongue would allow while blocking flying debris and the occasional strike. She told them of the mint-cloaked apothecaries who were actually fighting for the good of the tree and at its hidden enemies. But just as she was about her benefactor, Bodyl, she felt a claw like grip on both sides of her neck. The hands were so strong that they clamped down on one both of the troll's major arteries, causing her black out and fall to the ground. The smiling draenei giggled a little as she shook her pig-tailed head.

"My, my. She is quite the chatterbox isn't she? No matter. Time to die now." Pashima chirped, while summoning what looked like a ball of sick, metallic light. Just as the pair of alliance legends readied their defensive spells and stances, Pashima struck.

* * *

Daggerfang found himself alone in the mob. He could see the tips of Maiev's ears as she mercifully culled those who could take up arms against her and allowed those who could not to either run past her whirling blades or play dead. He could smell Meryl's musky worgen scent steadily drifting away as the rest of his group fully disappeared in the carnage. After shredding an unfortunate priest to shreds, Daggerfang managed to slink into the shadows. Though he could easily dispatch any who came into his path, his daggers did not seem to hunger for blood as they often did.

Instead, he made his way to a place of relative calm while the others cut a path towards the portals. Daggerfang could see them shining in the distance while he deftly dodged falling bodies as they fell around him. But Daggerfang's usual hubris when it came to his skills as a rogue did not allow him to notice he was being followed. His steps were mirrored and as he paused to wait for a battle to end, the silent stalker struck.

"Gotcha!" The tall figure snorted as he brought his large spanner down on Daggerfang's shoulder. Daggerfang howled in surprise as he spun around to quickly counter the strike. When his blade met air he growled at the engineer's smug expression. "Oh I'm sorry, did I scare ya BOY?" The Quel'dorei smiled as he quickly brought his hand to his waste, pulling out a tire iron from its make-shift place on his tool belt.

"Let me pass'n you won't get 'urt, pretty boy." Daggerfang spoke with none of his usual good humor. Any straggling fray could knock him off balance as he constantly looked to the side or behind his back for a loose blade or club. Daggerfang's attacker didn't waste time with a retort, as he lunged forward, aiming to crack Daggerfang's jaw wide open with the tire iron. Daggerfang deftly dodged, thrusting his weapons forward. The clang could be heard over the grunting sounds of battle as both polished daggers struck metal tools. But the engineer, a veteran of bar fights and bouts with angry fathers around the globe, could not keep pace with the seasoned rogue for very long. Daggerfang grinned as he knocked the engineer onto his back and prepared to stab the still smiling elf in the neck.

"Roth!" A voice came from behind. Daggerfang turned just in time to suffer a board with a nail in it to the side of his face. The newly forged nail dug deep into his cheek, causing him to howl in pain and clutch his face. The young carpenter brought the board over his head and nearly struck the creature in the face again, had Daggerfang not dodged. The very sight of the worgen made the young carpenter's stomach turn as a vengeful heat began to rise in his chest.

"I-It's about time you sh-showed up, kid!" Roth teased as he sorely rose to his feet. Daggerfang looked between the pair, eyes coming to rest on the young human. Daggerfang blinked but the image of himself 20 years ago remained with determination in his blue eyes and a bloody board in his hands. Daggerfang did not have time to think before the next attacks came. The elf and the human were skilled in their trade but Daggerfang blocked each and every blow as adrenaline and his lupine stamina began to ware the pair of attackers down. A swift punch to the temple sent Roth to the ground without a smile, leaving the carpenter and the rogue to finish their battle.

"I don't want to 'urt you boy. Tend to your friend and I'll be on my way."

"Like 'ell I will. You'll go no further, beast."

"Is that right?" Daggerfang paused as a familiar scent hit his nose. His stance and his grip on his daggers did not shift but the information his nose collected made his heart race. Daggerfang did not notice it at first despite the image before him, but once the young carpenter began to sweat in earnest, the scent became stronger. Daggerfang shook his head and continued to sniff.

"I-It can't be…"

"Get that bloody nose away from me! MONSTER!" Jim shouted, bringing his balled fist to strike Daggerfang's nose. He yipped a little and recoiled but could not find another strike to bring to the young man. Daggerfang stood tall and imposing for a moment, clutching his nose before his furry lips moved without his mind to stop them.

"Jimmy?" Daggerfang spoke; moving to the side to avoid a glancing blow by a druid's bloodied mace. The word seamed to quiet the action around them as Jim's blue eyes went wide. He slowly shook his head and clutched his weapon a little tighter. "Jimmy Mason?"

"Do I know you, animal?" Jim spat, hands at the ready to bring the board around again. He began to grind his teeth as a small chuckle came from the worgen's lips. Though injured he sniffed the air around them once more to be certain, causing another small round of quiet laughter. "What's so damn funny?"

"Your grandmother never told you…about your father?"

"She told me enough, she told me YOUR KIND killed him!" Jim shouted, batting a stray staff away as he watched the rogue shake his head.

"No." Daggerfang spoke as he closed his glowing red orbs. For the first time since his unfortunate transformation he felt the pall of darkness slip. The scent, the image, and the verbal confirmation pulled the fur and teeth from his form, as the layers of dark magic slowly stripped away. All that was left made the young Jim gasp. The man, who could pass for Jim in middle age, opened his own blue eyes to see the little boy from faded pictures.

"_I_ am your father."

* * *

When the boot-deep pool of mixed blood finally seemed to thin, Shandori and what was left of her group found themselves only a few, dry steps away from their destination. Three large humming portals met their tired, and in some cases, blurred vision as Bodyl, Shandori, Meryld, Maiev, Christoffel, and Potan moved forward. But just as the portal's gentle white hum touched their skin, the group was pushed back but a bright light and forceful wind. When the air around them was dim enough to see once more, a steady stream of seasoned heroes and their healers came pouring out of the left and right most portals. They did not seem to stop for them, however, as they made their way to the failing contractors and Malfurion's small fighting force. From the centermost portal, three figures immerged.

The one on the left was a tall, violet skinned draenei woman. The one in the center was a cleric of some kind. The one on the left made Shandori's skin crawl.

"Not YOU again…" Shandori shouted while resisting the urge to spit as Morion's frost saber began to growl.

"To think…you've fallen so far as to help these villains. I am glad your mother sent me in her place…to see you this way would have been too much strain on her heart." Morion spoke with a strange mixture of disgust and pity clear in his hushed voice as he shook his head.

"Bodyl. I see time hasn't changed you much."

"Lady Whitedeer." Bodyl mockingly bowed.

"In charity, I will give you one last chance to turn back. My White Branch with smash your paltry force like a robin's egg. And I see your entourage is winded. How far are they willing to fight for you?" Orifiel smiled beneath her mask as she pulled a strange, golden staff from its place on her back. The amber gems seemed frozen in a sun-like pattern, floating as if the moment it was shattered was captured in an elegant painting.

"I only see three before me, to my six. The odds are against you, my lady."

"So be it then. The time of your judgment is NOW!" Orifiel shouted as she lunged forward with great speed towards Bodyl who merely smiled and engaged the warden. Morion sent his mighty saber forward towards his favored target while Violetina placed her totems of healing around them.

Shandori threw her shield up as the frost saber careened forward into her steady but tired form. She managed to roll backwards, flipping the cat behind her while narrowly avoiding an arrow to the back. When Shandori came to rest in a crouching position beneath her battered shield, she felt the healing touch of druidic magic on her back. Despite being refreshed from the spell, her legs strained to move her from harm's way, as arrow and claw seemed bent on tearing her to pieces.

"Hey rabbit ears!"

"BUSY!" Shandori shouted to Meryld who pounced on the cat with ferocity in her tearing old maw. Shandori triumphantly laughed as the frost saber tried desperately to toss the clinging worgen from its back.

"I got puss, you deal with the hunt-tard!" Meryld cackled while carefully keeping her attitude light hearted in case she became a berserk liability later. Shandori wasted no time, charging forward through a hail of arrows. But in her pursuit she felt something metallic bite into her leg. Though her riveted plate and leather boots protected her, Shandori stumbled to the ground leaving herself exposed to a crucial blow. Morion knocked an arrow and aimed for any weak point. Just as he was about to let his arrow fly, Morion felt someone pull back on his long, white mane.

Christoffel managed to grab one of Morion's arrows and held it to his throat while maintaining his grip on the night elf's hair. Morion brought his foot on Christoffel's own and sent his elbow forcefully inward to strike at the rogue's gut. Christoffel was knocked off balance but maintained his stance. It was then Morion saw one of his two prized swords in the blood elf's hand.

"Silly hunt-tard, one handed swords are for rogues!" Christoffel scoffed as he demonstrated his proficiency, forcing the adept ranger into melee range. Despite the disadvantage, Morion found a smile as he easily kept pace with his attacker.

"Silly rogue, combat is NOT your forte!" Morion countered, lunging forward and striking Christoffel in the hand with the side of his other sword. The action cracked Christoffel in the thumb causing him to drop the weapon and shout in pain. But Christoffel's smile and the shadow behind Morion gave him little room to pause as Shandori, once again, intervened on her business partner's behalf.

While Morion struggled to fend off his attackers, Violetina did her best to keep the healing energy flowing around them. The art of healing was much better left to Jango or Thrall but it was what Orifiel demanded, and so she struggled on. It seemed that Morion was dealing with four of the attackers on his own, while Orifiel did swift battle with Bodyl. Her mind mused on where the last of their party was when she got her answer in the form of a stealthy glinting blade across her chest. She fell onto her back but quickly kipped up to see the elder night elf expressionlessly staring her down.

"You would give your life to help the Twilight cult and your fooled leader?" Maiev motioned to the blue of white and mint garments that almost unnaturally leaped from the floor to the branches in their dancing combat.

"You is fool, woman. You help te cult, we fight tem. If you do not stop we will crush you too!" Violet shouted with wind starting to whip around her. Maiev's frozen expression warmed into a small smile.

"So be it." The fight seemed to drag on as the three noble defenders of the tree felt the burden of battle begin to take its toll. Morion fell first. Shandori's unforgiving blade sliced through his resolve, sending him to the floor in a bloodied but still breathing heap. Violetina was no equal to Maiev, and despite her healing advantage, also met the ground with the inability to rise. While the rest of Bodyl's mercenaries recouped he and Lady Whitedeer continued their danger-laced dance. Glinting gold met hidden knives as the pair's speed and strikes intensified. Orifiel could feel her legs and arms begin to ache as she slowly slipped to a defensive position.

"It will be easier on you if you give up, little girl. I promise a swift and mostly painless end for you."

"The same cannot be said for you. If you slay me, my mate will finish your wretched existence."

"I look forward to seeing my comrade again. His blood will taste sweet indeed!" Bodyl shouted with a second wind filling his lungs. The determination and desire to slay the betraying mage flowed through him. His strikes became more vicious and his delivery was faster than an eye-blink. When he finally made it through Orifiel's defense, he plunged his knife deep into her stomach with a slight twist. Orifiel fell to the floor with a sickening crack as dark red blood began to stain her pure white battle garb.

"We should finish them…" Maiev emotionlessly stated. Bodyl shook his head.

"We should; but there is little time, we must get to the gem before it is secured." Bodyl motioned to the central portal and led his mercenaries through. In their wake was terrible devastation, but there were more members of the White Branch still standing than mint-cloaked Twilights. Orifiel laid very still until the last of the mercenaries were through the portal before she slowly saw up. Her eyes traveled to the gaping wound in her belly as she sighed. Orifiel's hand moved to the spot as a warm light began to form in her palm. Small threads of light began to stitch the horrible gash until the spot looked as if it were never inflicted. She looked to Morion who struggled to breath and to Violetina who was completely passed out with a small smile. Golden threads began to extend from her form as a gold tint overtook her usual pale vision.

"Enough rest you two, we have work to do."


	29. Flea 29: SoM Part 3

**Straydog Saga**

Flea 29: Secrets of Mydrassil Part 3: Enter the Dragons

* * *

The upper bough was in a state of a creeping silence. The once bustling lanes were void of anything but the occasional paper dancing in the quiet breeze. Bodyl and his mercenaries found themselves matching the atmosphere as tensions began to pull at their sore and strained muscles. The eerie glow of the tree's arcane branches created shadows that seemed to unnaturally dip and move as if of their own will. Bodyl quickly walked, eyes shifting from the area around them to his map and back again, as he led them through the shining streets toward their goal. After taking a few hard-to-find pathways, the group climbed a steep set of woven branches away from the trunk itself and into a tangled mass of skillfully crafted halls made from the branches themselves. The Pinnacle Bough's majesty loomed over the group like a stern parent looking about its shiftless children.

"According to the map, we're almost there…" Bodyl whispered over his shoulder as his quiet steps hastened.

"Something's not right…this is too easy." Christoffel mused out loud as his quick green eyes darted to the shadows. The fel orbs could not tell if what lurked within the great branches was friend, foe, or disturbed animal in the pre-morning glow. When they reached the thickly woven room at very top of the tree, a light akin to an arcane dawn met their tired vision.

Though the woven doorways to the inner chamber were usually locked shut, a small entrance seemed to shout for the group's attention. The great gem of Mydrassil did exist, and the small group found it hard to remain standing in its glorious glow. A few small figures toiled with the distant but vibrantly glowing gem with strained bodies to finish the emergency wards as the group moved forward. It was then the shadows began to shift.

"Look out!" Christoffel shouted as he shoved Shandori hard enough to knock them both to their knees. A great black bolt of energy pooled form the tiny spaces between the great branches and formed into a massive spear. An unseen hand sent the object with fatal force towards the warrior's head. When the pair looked up again, the shadow seemed to collapse in on itself and began to take another shape. When the tall shadow finished its second transformation, a tall, golden-eyed and indigo-skinned elf greeted them with a bitter smile.

"Hello again, my brother. It has been quite a while, hasn't it?" The elf spoke in a mockingly sweet tone. Bodyl's expression did not move to false niceties.

"You are no brother of mine, traitor. We've come to put an end to your foul ambitions and claim your weapon-gem in the name of the peoples of Azeroth!" Bodyl proclaimed. Lord Nightgaze looked to the mercenaries, who did not seem to question the assertion, with a snort before turning his vision back to his former brother in arms.

"I see, ever the crafter of fine tales… it matters little now. Your ilk has sealed their fates the moment they took up arms against the White Branch Initiative. You shall come no further." Lord Nightgaze closed his eyes with a sinister cackle as the very shadows of Mydrassil rose at his whim. The branches began to loose their leaves, as the earth-born entities began to break apart and form two strange beings of bark, branches, and wind. The strange elemental beasts came to Nightgaze's side and seemed to purr at his touch.

"Your little stick beasts don't frighten—" Bodyl's voice was choked off by a swift strike to the throat. The now snarling, tiger-like beasts were upon them, their every move dictated by the elf with the terrifying gaze. The fight was on as the group quickly split to deal with the threat. Each hack and strike only served to temporarily shift their wind-made bodies, unless they were able to get in a lucky strike on one of the larger wooden parts.

"Strike at the legs!" Maiev called, bringing her barbed, circular weapon to sever the two long branches that composed one of the beast's forearms. It howled in pain as it tried to strike, only to find the severed limb dangling useless before it. With Maiev's astute plan, the mercenaries managed to break the first beast's wooden frame in too many places for it to stay together. With a bellowing lurch the feline bundle feel to the ground in a pile of debris. The second elemental suffered a similar fate, but only after slicing Meryld's leg open from upper thigh to the knee and inflicting many a bruise and gash on the rest of the group. The sweat on Nightgaze's furrowed forehead was easily visible.

"He is all that stands between us and the gem, go now!" Bodyl shouted with little need for persuasion as Shandori and Maiev charged in, with the rest of the group not far behind.

But Lord Nightgaze was not like the clumsy contractors, nor was he as the druids and mages in student garb. Nightgaze used his countless years of practice and skill in the art of fear and phantom-bending as he dodged the strikes and spells with unnatural speed. Though he was a sorcerer by trade, each strike that found a foe struck as hard as an ogre's forceful fist. With a blurry movement, Nightgaze sent Potan stumbling backwards with a vicious uppercut to the chin. The tauren's nose began to profusely bleed where his usual bronze nose ring once was; it lay torn from his snout on the wooden floor. He could do nothing but attempt to heal the wound as the terrible assault continued.

"Pathetic!" Nightgaze scoffed as he grabbed Christoffel by the top of his leather armor and threw him against one of the tall branches with seemingly little effort. The action caused the night elf warrior in the group to up her attacks but his keen eyes saw the emotional sloppiness and made Shandori pay for it with a demeaning backhand to the face. Even Maiev, with her agile movements and skillful weapon handling, struggled to deal any real damage. But despite Seth's unusual skill and superior ability, his breath began to labor. Meryld could smell a strange odor seeping through his pours as strain and sweat began to drip from form in rivers.

"Keep at him, the geezer's getting tired!" Meryld howled before bringing her maw down on the small portion of flesh that was not protected by his black-cloth mantle. Lord Nightgaze roared in agony as he desperately clawed and reached for the worgen, digging his nails into her snout and scalp. After a few excruciating minutes he managed to throw the elder worgen over his shoulder, bringing an angry cloth shoe to her gut. But before he could crush her wind pipe with the same ambitious foot, Seth felt the sting of familiar magic on his body. The mercenaries had bought Bodyl enough time to cast an incantation, a terrible flesh-melting flame engulfed Lord Nightgaze, sending him screaming to the ground.

"Got him!" Shandori sneered as she moved in with her watery blade to finish the mage off.

"DON'T!" Bodyl shouted as Shandori dug the blade into Nightgaze's back. The steam cloud that ensued burst with scalding clouds, burning Shandori and forcing her to stumble backwards. The sword's enchantment halted the terrible spell, cooling the terrible wound it created. As the steam began to abate, dead silence tapered with the sound of cooking flesh met their ears. For a moment it seemed the elf had fallen, as he crouched with burnt clothing barely covering his scar-marked form.

But then it came: slowly at first., a small, dark laugh began to grow as the charred form began to rise. Shandori felt her heart begin to race as the laughter became a little louder. Christoffel could feel a chill run through him as the nightmarish cackling became a full on roar of pained laughter. The sound echoed through the Pinnacle Bough as the crisp form began to stand.

"W-Well done…Well done." Nightgaze rasped as he clapped two charred hands together. His eyes held no darkness, only golden amusement at the looks of horror and fright before him. He looked to the sword, still imbedded in his back, and slowly pulled it out. No blood came as he brought the blade to his hand. "Perhaps you should have been more…candid with your little minions, my brother. Maybe then you would have succeeded in your effort." Nightgaze smiled as he took a step towards the group, tossing the blade to the ground with carless abandon. The movement brought a new wretched smell of burnt flesh. "But, who am I to deny you? I mean you came all this way from your little rat's nest didn't you? It would be too rude, too CRUEL not to give you what you truly came for."

"Y-You wouldn't dare…y-your efforts, all these years will be for nothing!" Bodyl's face went pale as a cool sweat began to wash over his pounding chest. The spell had been intended to kill his former comrade, but instead the action awakened a steeping rage that had been building since either of them could remember. Seth's gaze was twice that of the one he employed against the demons of the Black Temple and those under its golden light found themselves unable to move. Bodyl's trembling words and terrified eyes were like salt Seth's oldest open wound.

"Disgusting little coward. Every day spent in this wretched existence is one more moment owed, you gelatinous sack of shit. I am a prisoner, my mate and children are prisoners,; prisoners in our own flesh because of a craven piece of living garbage. Do you honestly believe I give a damn about 'my efforts?' About this project? No. It has all led to this moment, dear brother, and you shall all feel my torment!" Suddenly, all of the dark cheer was gone. Nightgaze's boiling rage erupted as his form began to contort and swell. What was left of his clothing lay on the floor as black leathery wings burst from his back with flame-colored brilliance between their long, black-scaled fingers.

"Ho…" Shandori's eyes went wide as the elf's arms began to grow, as claw like hands began to lengthen into obsidian talons.

"…ly…" The group continued to watch with horror as Lord Nightgaze's face began to elongate into a massive scaled maw with teeth the size of tauren men. Small puffs of smoke came from his upturned nostrils as prominent, proud black horns threatened to scrape the sky. A long, mace-tipped tail thrashed around, culling dozens building-sized branches and sending them hurling to the churning ocean below.

"…SHIT!" Shandori screamed as one massive talon came down and nearly crushed her dwarfed form. It took all her speed to avoid death as the gigantic elder wyrm looked down upon his hated enemies with ember colored eyes. All of the fury, anger, and rage that had been hidden for so long behind the mortal guise and had festered in the white-hot blood of the black dragon Setharion, came forth in a roar that deafened the dawning heavens.

* * *

Orifiel felt her body freeze as what sounded like an explosion followed by a terrible roar shook the very floor she stood on. Those that still fought felt themselves pause in their attacks for a moment to look for the cause of the sound. Vareesa and Anduin, in their hesitation, could only helplessly watch as their battered pig-tailed enemy vanished in the confusion. F-bomb and McGowan stopped their belabored battle as both sank to their knees in exhaustion. A father and son parted by tragedy and reunited on the brink of it, found their strangely sweet moment tainted by fear. The mages in the depths of the Tangled Canal were spared no volume as the terrible roar threatened to sink their resolve. Only a few moments of peaceful silence remained before a second roar shook the tree. Orifiel could barely hear Malfurion's voice as she strained to translate the terrifying sounds into speech.

"Lady Whitedeer, Lady White—ORIFIEL!" Malfurion called as he placed a hand on her trembling shoulder. She quickly shook her head.

"Y-Yes."

"What is happening in the Pinnacle Bough?" Malfurion asked as a tremor and a second explosion rocked the tree and nearly sent all who stood to the ground. Another, longer roar came which made Orifiel's eyes go wide.

"…get everyone out of the tree, NOW!" Orifiel shouted for Morion and Violetina to lead the remaining forces to the flight decks and emergency portals to the docks. She shouted to any who could hear to abandon their Twilight enemies and flee.

"Calm down, child and tell me what is happening!" Malfurion scolded as they put down any foolish Twilight cultist who still tried to put up a fight.

"Seth is up there, he is exposed. There is another and he's calling for draconic reinforcements."

"Shall I send someone to fetch _them_?"

"…yes. I will do what I can to evacuate your people and mine. We cannot let the Twilight Flight get that gem!" Orifiel, finding herself a bit more composed, nodded in affirmation. Malfurion wasted no time in finding a lesser winded druid of the talon to set off on the errand as Orifiel ran towards the upper-bough portals. Her heart was pounding as she lovingly cursed Seth's name in every language she knew. She prayed to Elune that her abilities would be enough to keep what ever was coming at bay while Malfurion's druid flew for reinforcements.

But despite Orifiel and Malfurion's speedy reaction, others took note of the black dragon's call. Those particularly resilient Twilight fighters, who were still able to fit in the spacious but confining trunk, shed their mortal guises in favor of their true, violet-tinged forms. Among them, the secretive Balumbra transformed into a massive blue-violet leviathan and crushed the valiant mortals who continued to impede him even after his change. He and the others of his flight moved to any window or opening in the trunk large enough to grant them passage into the air as one by one, violet wings carried sinister creatures towards their goal.

* * *

Keesha shivered as she, Han, Trenton, and little Inge waited with patient expressions but shifting feet for their turn to leave the tree. Han often allowed women and children to go ahead of him in line, an action that caused Keesha to frown and roll her eyes but not utter a disparaging word to her virtuous mate. The ground they stood on shook violently for a moment as what sounded like an explosion from the upper part of the tree caused several of the people waiting in line to shout or scream. "What the hell was that?" Keesha looked to Trenton as his face suddenly went as white as a clean sheet. "Trenton?" Keesha asked as a terrible shadow fell over the flight deck. The massive branches culled by Setharion's thrashing tail plummeted towards them. The frightened hippogryphs squawked in terror as many loosed themselves from their pens or handlers as the branches crashed into the flight deck.

"Look out!" Keesha screamed as she shoved those in line behind them back as the branches crashed into the flight-deck, cracking the very edge of the structure from the rest of the tree. The terrible sight caused those who were at the back of the line to flee into the trunk where a priest or mage might find them and steer them towards the emergency portals. Keesha was just a few steps away from the unfortunate ones crushed by the enormous braches and those plummeting to their deaths. She turned with terror in her glowing gold eyes to see Han, fallen and sliding, to the edge of the broken flight deck.

"HAN!" She shrieked and attempted to run down the cracked slope to rescue her beloved. But as she moved to do so, a strong set of hands grabbed her by the arm and pulled her close.

"Keesha, don't you'll fall!" Trenton shouted as he watched the dazed Hanariel sliding further down the slope of the bent deck. Hanariel struggled to hold on to the jagged edge but his weak arm and single hand were not enough to stop his shifting decent. Hanariel felt the air and sea breeze claim him as he fell to his watery doom. Keesha shouted and kicked as hard as she could to rescue her lover, but Trenton held fast. His heart sank as he lost one of his charges, but would not relinquish the second as she cried out in grief.

"Han…" Inge called. She remembered the big promise she made to her mother, never to show anyone her secret. But Han, her beloved glowing Han, was in trouble and would surely never smile at her or bring her sweets at lunch time without her mother knowing ever again if she did not break her promise. With a nod the little girl ran to the edge of the flight deck and jumped. Keesha felt it impossible to breathe as she watched the tender human child seemingly commit suicide. She could no longer find the will to fight against her captor as she sank to the ground in a heap.

"No…why?" Keesha cried, the licking wind offering no comfort from the loss. Trenton stood silent and listening as a small, clicking chirp came to him with the wind. He felt his heart leap as another series of light hearted chirps and hums came to his ears as something approached.

"K-Keesha Who-whoa, steady now…" A voice triumphantly called from below. Keesha did her best to wipe the tears from her eyes as a strange beast, carrying a nervous and glowing burden rose to her sight. The young drake was just out of its whelping horns as it gave a happy chirp at its great success. The drake carried a shaken but uninjured Hanariel on its shining, white-scaled back. Han's eyes went wide for a moment as he marveled at something just beyond where Keesha stood.

"H-Han! What…b-but Inge she…"

"She is right in front of you." Another, inhumanly deep voice replied. Keesha turned and nearly tumbled onto the sunken slope as a sizeable drake sat where Trenton once stood with an amused smile. "Please don't be afraid. As I said before, we're here to get you both to safety. It would have been better had we not had to resort to this but…" It spoke as it unfurled its black-scaled and golden skinned wings. Keesha had seen black drakes before but not with the strange golden scale patterns that lined his face, arms, ribs, and hind legs.

"T-Trenton?"

"Terronian actually, but we'll have plenty of time for intro's and explaining when we reach the island. We need to go!" Terronian asserted as he crouched down allowing Keesha to get on his back. He spoke in draconic to his adopted sister who nodded and flew in the direction of Terronian and Inge's favorite and decidedly secret get-away. He smiled as he kicked off into the open sky, wings longing for the feel of wind beneath them.

"This, this is too weird." Keesha marveled as the sea-wind whipped at her face. She held on to two large spikes along Trenton's bronze-scaled back as they traveled away from the embattled tree.

"Tell me about it. If I'd have known you'd be riding me tonight I would have bought you some chocolate or something first."

"Trenton."

"Yes?"

"I'm not afraid to punch a dragon."

"Noted. But I don't suggest you do that now, I'm all out of parachutes." Terronian snorted as the welcome laughter almost made him forget the faces of those killed only moments before. He tried to quash the rising images as the four friends hurried away unaware of the carnage that was to come. More flashes and explosions came from the upper bough as Han and Keesha turned to see small fires starting to burn. Strange, distant creatures were seen flying from the tunk to the upper branches, as Keesha's eyes went wide.

"More dragons, how many of you were hiding?" She marveled as no less than 100 or so purple leviathans circled around the great tree.

"A few of the mages and druids, why?"

"That's more than a few. I've never seen purple dragons before…" Han marveled as the Twilight dragons starting disappearing into Mydrassil's branches.

"W-What?" Terronian gasped as he called to his sister in draconic. He had his suspicions that some of the violet brood had survived along with their mortal minions, but even in his best attempts at scrying and bouts of intuition he could find none among the hidden, mortal-bodied multitude. Inge hesitantly nodded at his thought and made no effort to stop him, as the golden striped black dragon flew close to her flank. "Hanariel, stay with my baby sister. Keesha, accompany them, I have to go back."

"Why?" Keesha gasped as Terronian's gold-slit eyes grew narrow.

"Do not question me, just do it!"

"Don't you order me around! I will snatch up your black ass and make me a nice pair of boots outta you, you talk to me like that again." Keesha barked. Terronian let out a frustrated sigh.

"My father is up there; he cannot fight all of those monstrosities off himself. My mother charged me with keeping you both safe; she said nothing about me returning." He nodded, flying steady and close to his adoptive sister's side.

"Let's get something straight. I don't answer to your mama. If I'm going to take over half of that tree, I'm damn well going to defend it too."

"Agreed." Han nodded causing Inge to whine and coo in the only language her dragon-tongue could muster. "What is it Inge?"

"My little sister cannot come; she does not know what flight she's from and can't produce magic yet. Please I will grant you anything you wish if you'll accompany her to the island and keep her safe…Keesha and I will return for you when things calm down…" Trenton grumbled as Keesha patted him on the back of the head as she would a puppy. With that the lovers and the reluctant siblings parted as Setharion found himself under siege.

* * *

Thrall's ears were ringing. It took every ounce of self-control not to clasp his ragged hands over his ears as the roars came. The shaking branches, though tightly woven into a floor, swayed as the behemoths did battle just outside the woven walls in which he and his shamans labored.

"What's going on out there!" Thelma Thornbear shouted over the noise as she sank to one knee.

"Dragons, I know their battle cries well!" Thrall answered as his heart began to pound. The wards were nearly done, only a few more minutes and their many weeks of hard work would be over. But giant dragons were doing battle just outside their wooden room and thoughts of shouting to his comrades to flee did cross his mind. But a joyous sound reached his ears; among the fierce roars and cracking branches a crisp chime overtook it all as the gem's warding was complete. The shamans collapsed in exhaustion, but rest was not an option as the woven walls began to twitch.

"Sometin' be happenin'; we gotta get outta hea!" Jango shouted as the woven walls unraveled into writhing entities. The shamans pulled out their weapons as the twisting branches finally began to slow and settle, one of which drooped low and sprouted a fine, white bloom. When it opened, a familiar voice came to their ears, but the sound seemed layered as if not properly synched with that moment in time.

"TTTTTTTttthrall. Take the branches down to the lower levels and get your shhhamans to the docks. A White Branch workers will take you to one of the sssssssafe-shores. We will take it from here, go nowwwwwWW!" Orifiel's eerie voice commanded but offered little explanation as the branch rose again to allow its fellows to bow and pick up the reluctant shamans. The branches pulled the four laborers down and passed them to lower branches until they were placed within the trunk and within walking distance of the emergency portals.

Once the area around the gem was evacuated, the branches clamped down around the gem, weaving a solid case around the object so tight, that its brilliant glow could not be seen. But while the shamans were carried to relative safety, Shandori and her cohorts were fighting to stay alive as to two massive black dragons did battle. Blood, scales, and shattered branches flew about the scene like a maelstrom as Setharion and his former brother Bodylon fought to the death.

"We gotta get the fuck out of here!" Shandori shouted as she looked for the way they came or any other way out of the upper most boughs.

"What about the money?" Christoffel added as he was struck in the arm by a torn but razor-sharp dragon scale.

"FUCK THE MONEY! I'm not getting paid to screw around with black dragons. Besides, our boss just turned into THAT. I have a feeling we weren't going to be paid anyway!" Shandori shot back as she lifted her shield to stop a stray shard of wood from striking her neck.

Bodyl was looking ragged as Setharion viciously dug his talons deep into his hated brother's shoulder and flank, bringing his massive jaws to clamp down on the bleeding dragon's throat. Bodyl struggled to breathe as Setharion raked his tauren-sized teeth across his enemy's throat, cutting it open and showering the ground with torn black scales and crimson liquid. Bodyl light headedly stumbled with a gurgling cough.

"You've los-lost brother…they come for you!" Bodyl wheezed in draconic as he desperately tried to counter but only succeeded in falling to his side. With a growling scowl, Setharion quickly brought his head down and grasped his brother where his vertebra and skull connected. With a quick twist of his gigantic maw, Setharion finished the foul dragon that nearly killed his beloved mate in outland and forced their continued hiding among the mortals. The limp body nearly crushed his mortal minions as they hurried to move out of the rolling death-trap. Setharion, bloodied and injured, did not have a moment to savor the triumph as the scent of acrid magic mixed with his own blood came to his nostrils.

"Come out of hiding, wretched beasts." He snarled as the perched multitude of violet dragons began to circle him. One in their number, the Twilight dragon called Balumbra, flew down to land just out of striking range of the bleeding Mydrassil defender.

"So you are Setharion "Blackhorn"…a pity, you look much like the master did. It is uncanny."

"Not the mad aspect you knew. I am among the first brood of the earth warder, no son of "Deathwing." Why have you plagued this place, although your kind does not seem to need a reason..."

"Our fallen brother spoke of a great gem of power. Our new master has graciously requested it. You shall give us the Mydrassil gem and you shall perish." Balumbra roared as the swarm of small but powerful dragons struck. Although they were a fraction of the elder wyrm's size, their numbers more than made up for their stature. Setharion struggled to stay on his feet as he threw those he could get with his mouth around like child's toys.

Shandori and her mortal companions struggled to avoid getting crushed under one of the dragon's bodies as they scrambled to find a way out of the tree. They stumbled into a small hallway and thanked whatever granted them the discovery. The group hurried down a spiral branch as the entire structure began to shake. The Twilight dragons began breathing terrible arcane and fire spells at their enemy and burning the protective mesh of branches around the great gem. Smoke billowed into the small pathway and into the upper bough as the very walls around them began to quiver. Branches broke away from the rest of the woven walls and began to try and grab at the small group as they struggled to beat them away.

Meryld was the first to be grasped, like a mouse captured by a coiling snake, and brought someplace out of sight. Fighting the thick smoke and now grasping branches, Shandori's thinning group struggled to stay standing as Maiev found her legs and waste bound by wooden adversaries. As the group finally made it back towards the abandoned trade districts of the upper bough, their labored breaths and dragging feet seemed to seal their fates.

Potan, suffering loss of blood and terrible wounds, fell over in smoke-lunged exhaustion with no words or great healing spells able to rouse him to his hooves. Shandori and Christoffel, unable to find the strength to lift the ailing druid, left him to his fate. The pair of elves stumbled as the strange smoke threatened to suffocate them.

"Th-There!" Christoffel wheezed as small rays of morning light pierced through the churning smoke. The entrance to one of the balcony-cafés was left open, allowed fresh air and temporary salvation to wash over their bruised and battered forms. But to their dismay, the balcony had no discernable escape as the branches swayed violently above.

"Damnit." Shandori cursed as the tree shook, sending twigs and leaves falling over them. Christoffel pulled Shandori inward, but the growing heat at their backs made the prospect of being crushed by fallen debris far more appealing.

"We're fucked!" Christoffel coughed as the ashy smoke thickened behind them.

"Chris."

"What?"

"I'm sorry."

"W-What?" Chris asked while struggling to stand as another tremor nearly sent him to his knees. The direness of the situation did not strike him until another massive branch came down and knocked the guard rail and part of the balcony's edge away in one thunderous pass.

"Sorry I got you into this mess…" Shandori shuttered, doing her best not to let her fear bring tears to her cheeks. Christoffel cursed and looked for any hidden vine or branch to grab onto.

"D-Don't say that. We'll get out of this, we always do!" he reassured. Shandori quietly reprimanded herself as she wiped the wetness from her vision. It was then that something, many things began to glisten over the pulsing sea.

Shandori didn't know if the dark spots on the horizon were tricks of the eye or real objects. She felt her heart begin to swell as the sight of a swarm of multi colored beasts flew into the swirling cloud of violet dragons. She cheered as wings of green, red, bronze, blue and even a few black unleashed a fresh battle onto the attacking dragons as their roars echoed against the glowing white bark.

"Hey, Hey up here! HEY!" She waved, trying to get one of the great leviathans' attention. But the dragons had their own agenda and as they passed by, the flames roared behind the trapped mortals. Shandori covered her eyes as more twigs and broken branches fell on the battered balcony. But in one terrible lurch, Shandori lost her footing and went flying toward the rail-less edge. Christoffel fell to his knees as he lifted his vision to see Shandori fall over the edge of the balcony.

"DORI!" Chris shouted as he shuffled over to where the night elf desperately clung. She tried to pull herself over the edge but her heavy armor and the polished surface made it a seemingly impossible task. Chris grabbed her hand and tried to pull her up, but he wasn't sure if it was fatigue or smoke in his lungs that made his partner so heavy. "Hold on I got you."

"Don't you let me go! Don't let me go!" Shandori, for the first time since they'd met, sounded like a frightened woman rather than a shrewd mercenary. The tone made Christoffel strain well beyond what his state would allow as she seemed to sink in his grasp. Shandori felt something tug on her leg, loosening her grip on her blood elf companion. "…Chris!" With another tug from a fiendish hidden branch, Christoffel felt nothing but the crisp morning wind between his fingers as the woman he had come to treasure sank beneath the clouds with a face that would surely haunt him for the rest of his living moments.


	30. Flea 30: Sympathy for the Devil

**Straydog Saga**

Flea 30: Sympathy for the Devil

* * *

"F-Father…" Terronian whispered as he felt his heart sink at the sight of fires in the Pinnacle Bough. Burst after burst came, as the molten plumes disappeared into the morning sky.

"We're almost there, don't worry, we'll get to him," Keesha assured, patting Terronian on his black-scaled back before gently rubbing him along one of the golden stripes along his neck. The golden eye-rune on her hand began to glow as Keesha felt a rush of power fill her tiny form.

Faint images of the past flew into the mind's eye of the High Mystic, though she saw the rapid images through the vision of her mount. Doting parents to a single hatched egg, the arrival of an adorable adopted sister, a dragon growing up secretly among mortals, and the tragic double life of a Twilight spy all revealed through her simple touch. Keesha smiled and tightly closed her fingers into a blade-like palm. "I wont let you loose your papa, get me close to those purple beasts."

"W-What are you going to do? We need to get to the top of the tree."

"You need to get there, just get me close enough to one of them and let me work," Keesha commanded, eyes glowing with golden purpose. Terronian did not argue as he came closer to where the Twilight dragons still circled. When the pair was in range, Keesha stood and kicked off the dragon's back with unnatural speed. Before he could protest, Terronian's eyes went wide at the sight.

With skillful movements, Keesha traveled at speed dictated by her will and abilities rather than by the laws of physical action, bringing her blade-like hand down on the Twilight drake's back with a chopping motion so forceful that it caused the dragon's scales to ripple. The beast howled in pain as Keesha delivered forceful blow after forceful blow, landing a finishing strike at the dragon's head. The crumpled violet-scaled dragon shuttered for a moment before it began to sink to the ocean below. Keesha kicked off the falling corpse, small shades of herself left in her speedy wake, as she landed on another, larger dragon.

"Get going! I got this!" Keesha shouted with a dark laugh as she delivered the same devastating motions to her new victim. Terronian gave a hesitant nod before flying towards the top of the tree. The great violet-colored leviathan fought as hard as it could to knock the tiny, glowing form from its back, but a vicious kick to one of its massive wings knocked it off balance and sent Keesha and her enemy careening into the massive tree. But as the beast clawed at the tree's bark, desperate to get its baring back, Keesha placed her glowing hand on the surface of the tree as a sturdy branch grew on her command. She stood on the branch, closed her eyes, and concentrated on the feel of the bark under her touch as the air around the High Mystic seemed to slow.

A golden pattern formed into a strange rune on the surface of the tree and quickly drew its way to where the clawing dragon struggled.

"Insolent insect, you shall not defeat me!" it roared, bringing its tail around to swipe at the smiling Keesha, but the strike only met air. The dragon's eyes went wide as the small-seeming human leaped to its back as the runes began their strange work. Threads of air began to shift around them as small beads of energy passed by the pair like a sandy wind. The dragon roared in pain and began to shrink. Within a matter of seconds the great beast was nothing more than a tiny spot in existence before blinking out entirely. Keesha, feeling the strain from her spell work in her sore back and sweaty body, wasted no time in leaping to another enemy.

But the back of this red-violet dragon was filled with more danger than the vicious spines and smooth scales. Keesha delivered harsh blows but her breath was labored and her arms weakened by fatigue. The dragon sped and bobbed, trying to throw the battering mortal from its back. It was then Keesha noticed other sets of wings in the fray. Dragons of all colors came with the fully-risen sun, careening into their enemies with claws and teeth bared.

One of the great creatures, not noticing the spec on the violet dragon's back, rammed the enemy with all its might, sending Keesha falling backwards. She groped the air for a moment, trying to get her bearings as she sped downward, with no solid branches or dragons to land on. She saw flashes of red soar past her as the ocean below drew dangerously near. Before Keesha could right herself, she felt a massive claw close around her.

"Oh HELL NO!" Keesha struggled in the crushing grip but found she could not move her arms to cast a spell that would release her.

"Be calm! I am not your enemy, Ms. Hazzad."

"The hell?"

"My scales are only half the color violet," the dragon assured, as she moved to avoid falling branches. Keesha looked up to see blood red scales.

"A-Are you one of Terro's friends?" Keesha asked as she felt small shards of branch-matter fall over them like a dusty rain.

"You could say that. Though if I may be so bold, you really should leave dragon-fighting to the experts…cupcake."

"…no way." Keesha flushed a little as images of the thin, snobbish young high elf mage known as 'Kat' came to mind and the demeaning things Keesha had spoken so freely to the hidden dragon. "Um, about that…"

"We don't have time for all that, we must get to the Pinnacle Bough; lord Nightgaze needs all the help we can muster," Katastraza informed with a spoken nod. The pair flew to where the other dragons dwelled as they prepared a counter assault on the invading Twilight dragons.

* * *

Those mortals too stubborn to abandon the tree's few remaining defenders were awe-struck at the horror that continued in the Pinnicle Bough. Malfurion, Vareesa, Anduin, and the most stubborn among them, Thrall, could barely resist covering their mouths at the horrific smell of burning dragon-flesh. While his shamans left for the safety of the shore, Thrall found it impossible to abandon his former comrades in their effort.

F-bomb, upon seeing several mint-cloaked allies turn into violet dragons and learning the truth about her mission from a returning Thrall, extended apologies to her supposed enemies. With the truth revealed, F-bomb lent her skills to the legendary shaman, pulling the dazed but still living Ima in tow.

McGowan and Roth, unable to be swayed otherwise, also followed the heroes of legend to the uppermost part of the tree, leaving an injured father to pull his son toward the emergency portals. Violetina and Morion, still touched by Orifiel's strange healing magic, also joined the effort, much to Thrall's protest. Before he could convince the draenei to turn back, Thrall and the others traveled through the part of the upper bough that wasn't consumed by flame, and bore whiteness to the great draconic battle before them.

"You should go with the others to safety, Violet!" Thrall spoke in orcish. Violetina shook her head and replied in the tongue of Thrall's people.

"Orifiel cannot go and you cannot go, you old clefthoof! So I will fight with you." Violet shouted back over the roar as she summoned her beloved wind element. With a determined smile, she leaped into the fray, sending lightning and lava to any enemy foolish enough to get in her path. The others were not far behind her as more and more of Setharion's blood made its way to the branch-woven floor. Orifiel could not be seen, but her presence was known in the branchs' wild movements and woven shield around the great gem. But the shield was besieged by dragons and their spawn, as twisted flame and arcane magic weakened the branches' resilient hold.

"F-F-bomb…what have we done?" Ima spoke as she watched the carnage continue. F-bomb frowned and shook her head.

"You didn't do nothing wrong, we were lied to. Now get your head in the game and let's kill some violets!" F-bomb shouted with a snarling smile. Ima nodded and the pair leaped forward with spells flying. Not wanting to be shown up by a pair of power-wielding women, Roth and McGowan were not far behind.

The great heroes, warmed by the emerging bravery of their comrades also charged forward, dealing whatever damage they may upon the great violet beasts.

It was not long before Terronian and the red dragons reached the Pinnacle Bough, calling commands to the other dragons flying nearby to leave the fight and fetch water to extinguish the spreading fires. Kat released Keesha who unleashed her terrible assault on the dragons still fighting around the gem. Terronian did not wait for the red dragons' support as he flew in with great speed and rammed a smaller dragon that was about to viciously bite his father's left wing. The light-bathed dragon roared as his movements grew impossible to see with a mortal eye. Like Keesha's strikes, each light-speed strike tore scale from flesh, rending his enemy into a bloody pile of meat and bones.

"Father, I am here!" Terronian called as he pulled another dragon from his father's gigantic form, sending to the ground and forcefully biting at its throat. The violet dragon tried to scream before its wind pipe was crushed, but the sound never came.

"T-Terro, leave; you may be killed!" Setharion grunted as he felt desperation surge through his body. In one adrenaline-filled push, Setharion pushed upwards, sending several dragons flying in all directions. The mortal heroes scrambled to avoid being crushed. But in the end, the smaller dragons would suffer the humiliation of being slain by common and not so common mortal 'rabble.'

"I will not, father, or you WILL be!" Terronian roared, and turned a vicious claw to sever the tail of one unfortunate dragon, before mercifully culling its life.

The battle seemed to be turning in the favor of the White Branch Initiative as the last of the smaller violet dragons were vanquished, but two large villains remained nearly untouched. While the heroes fought to stave off the swarm, Balumra and his sister Pashima were diligently stripping the layers of bark from the gem's protective covering. By the time the heroes were able to engage them, the gem was not only exposed but in Balumbra's massive claws.

"Fly brother, the master awaits!" Pashima gleefully hissed.

"No!" Terronian roared as he watched Balumbra kick off with the gem in his violet clutches. Not waiting for his father's protests, Terronian gave chase. His tail knocked into Pashima's maw as she tried to bite at her brother's pursuer. The blow, swift and unnaturally strong for the speed in which it struck, sent the stunned red-violet dragon to the ground. With fading strength, Setharion moved his great claws and pressed one against Pashima's throat, the other positioned to tear a massive hole in her underbelly.

"D-Do it now!" Setharion growled to a hidden ally. He quickly moved to avoid several crushing branches as they broke through the woven floor and created a tangled case around Pashima. The movement caused Setharion to loose his balance and fall with a thunderous sound to his side. The sound was quickly drowned out by a pained shriek. Pashinma thrashed around as the sharp tips of the branches dug into her form. She passed out from the pain as the branches brought her downward, through the floor, and towards the holding area just above the Tangled Canal.

"Setharion!" Malfurion called as he ran to his associate's massive head. The black dragon's wounds were grave in the archdruid's sight. "Can you hear me?"

"Y-Yes…are they dead? Is everything secure?"

"They are all slain but one; Orifiel claimed her." Malfurion spoke with truth omitted in his words.

"G-Good." Setharion laughed with a gurgling cough. A strange wind befell them as a large male dragon slowly sank to the ground beside them.

"Lord Stormrage, tend to your mortal allies. I will see to his healing…"

"YOU shall NOT touch me, filth! My mate will tend to me when she is finished dealing with that wretched girl." Setharion growled, weakly trying to stand.

"You'll be dead by then, old fool. I'd never hear the end of it, now stay down!" the red dragon commanded as he placed a gentle but firm claw on the ailing Setharion. The action was more than enough to keep the exhausted dragon in his place.

"I'll only heal you enough to keep your miserable hide alive. The rest will be up to her." The red snorted as a healing light came to its front claws. The four female red dragons that often followed their beloved moved to ensure no one would interrupt his concentration.

Keesha marveled as the red dragon, called Romilstraz by Kat and the other females, effortlessly mended the deadliest of the black dragon's wounds. The healing afforded Setharion time and attention to concentrate on a spell as he began to shrink until the Highborne Seth Nightgaze lay in the dragon's place. Keesha came to his side, and covered his form with her own cloak.

"Couldn't conjure a ridiculous outfit, could you? Or maybe you're just a show-off," Keesha softly jibed. The small joke managed to bring a weak smile to Seth's face.

"Good to see my son's insolence didn't bring you to h-harm. Hanariel is?" Seth grumbled as Keesha helped him sit up. The action caused a wave of pain to rush to Seth's forehead, forcing his clawed hand to clutch his wincing face.

"Han's fine. He's with your daughter on one of the islands near here. They're both alright. You just worry about getting well. Where's Orifiel?"

"In one of the safe rooms, no doubt," Malfurion answered as Setharion's breathing became labored. Thrall, Vareesa, and the others who still managed to stand after the long fight made their way to where the small group stood and looked to their burned surroundings with sunken hearts.

"The gem…it's gone," Anduin sighed, nearly wilting under Maulfurion's scolding gaze. He had tried to spare the news from the injured dragon, but it seemed from the confident smile on Lord Nightgaze's face that the thought did not bother him.

"My son is of my own blood. If he is pursuing that foolish violet dragon then we h-have nothing to fear..." Seth spoke as his voice became as light as the feeling in his head. Keesha steadied him as she gently helped him back into a laying position.

"We should send assistance, then, and begin evaluating the damage. No doubt that the naga or faction forces will notice the exodus. We shouldn't tempt them with helpless prizes." Romilstraz snorted as his own form began to shrink. Ima's eyes went wide as she felt her jaw drop. Standing where the dragon once did, was Romulus Redmane.

"N-No way!" Ima felt her blood freeze. The transformation itself did not seem to bother her, but her actions against her beloved teacher's companions, and the blood she'd spilled in the name of what she thought was good, made her knees buckle. Imajin sank to the floor as tears streamed down her cheeks. She felt a small green hand stroke her trembling back, but the words of comfort didn't seem to reach her.

Romulus looked to his student with a frown. He instructed his consorts to begin their evaluation and assist the other dragons in any way they could. He bowed his head in thanks to the mortal fighters and requested they begin securing the evacuees. He gently and respectfully asked Keesha to use her abilities to safely bring Seth to the situation room which, according to his dragon spawn, was untouched by flame or carnage. As they did as Romulus asked, the somber-faced dragon did his best to shake the feeling of dread before walking to Ima's side and taking a knee.

"Miss Ation? I know my change must come as a shock, but it is not safe here; we should go," Romulus gently spoke.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry! Lord Redmane pl-please don't hate me! I didn't mean to help them; I thought I was helping you! Please…" Ima sobbed. Romulus paused for a moment before a sunny smile flashed on his features.

"Oh, no young one! Do not apologize. You have helped me 10 times more than you know. Now, both you and your friend will come with me to safety. When my tasks are done I shall explain everything. But for now…have you ever wanted to ride a dragon?" Romulus smiled as the terror, humiliation, and tears disappeared from Ima's face. Instead sheer joy and childish excitement came as she wiped the wetness from her still-reddened cheeks.

Meanwhile, Orifiel left the safe room, face drained of color and body drained of precious energy. She allowed herself to become one with the tree, giving the great creature all of her power and will. Though she could have leant more of herself in fighting off the Twilight horde, the bulk of her attention was spent getting those that remained in the tree to safety.

Maiev and Meryld were among those carried away by her mind's minions. But in her attempts to save Potan, among many others, those who fell in battle seemed just out of her mighty reach.

As she stumbled through the smoky halls, the walls themselves seemed to cry in agony as the occasional spray of a blue dragon's watery payload touched her sweat-drenched skin. The great azure leviathans dared not used their icy breath, in fear that the freezing would harm healthy branches as well as quell those that burned. The dizziness in her stomach coupled with the fact that the tree seemed to spin in her golden vision, made Orifiel wonder if her efforts were enough.

Mydrassil was in shambles, but finally free of the Twilight plague. Many of the mortals escaped to the relative safety of the shore, but several hung limp and lifeless within the peacefully glowing tree. Family bonds were tested as mothers went missing, wives were lost, and children went unseen and never to be heard again.

* * *

Smoke continued to billow out into the morning air from the balcony exit. Christoffel could no longer see clouds or wings or the licking flames at his back. The sky was nothing but dark billowing clouds and the scent of burnt lumber threatened to overtake the air within the stricken elf. Christoffel had seen the death of his brothers, the death of his mother, and even delivered eternal sleep to his cold and distant step father; but Christoffel entered a state beyond pain, beyond the will to stand or jump in the imminent and painful death that was ready to consume him.

As he felt his body sink and lungs unable to take in air, the sunlight finally broke through the haze of black smoke. A single set of great, feathered wings sent the toxic wind away long enough for steady talons to grasp onto the ailing rogue's shoulders. Christoffel grunted in pain, but the shock and numbness that filled his slow-flowing veins allowed him to utter little else.

"Hold on, I shall take you to safety!" the bird, truly a druid of the talon, squawked as it struggled to lift the limp elf from his fiery demise. Tenen Fleetfeather had come on a breeze, bringing with him the true patrons and matrons of the White Branch Initiative, as his great Shando Stormrage instructed. They flew from their secretive mortal-seeming homes, located in several tiny nearby islands, much like Terronian and Inge's own favored hiding spot, at the storm crow's call. But as he circled around the massive tree, Tenen spotted a horrific sight. He was too slow to save the fallen Shandori, but his talons lifted Christoffel aloft before the terrible blaze could claim him.

Meanwhile, the still conscious Shandori felt a rush of wind beneath her. In her descent, she saw what had made her so heavy, what had pulled her from Christoffel's grasp. A single, coiling branch seemed to mockingly wave to her before returning to its position beneath the balcony. Shandori cursed the fiendish branch, and did her best not to pass out as she sailed pastbranch after crushing branch. Dragons, commanded to retrieve water to extinguish the fires above shot past, not giving a spare moment to collect the falling night elf.

But just as it seemed the story of Shandori Sagesmoke was to close, her flailing hand grasped something solid. The smooth stone-like spike nearly slipped from her gloved hand, but the warrior managed to hang on long enough to grasp onto a patch of glittering stones along the back of a blue dragon.

"Ew!" the dragon instinctively uttered as it pre-maturely dropped its watery burden on several burning branches, nearly missing the tree completely.

"D-Don't drop me! I'm a friend I swear!" Shandori shouted as a gust of sea wind threatened to send her back to an early grave.

"Get OFF me mortal!" The young blue female indignantly bucked. "You just made me look BAD in front of the others. What if word gets back to Lord Kalecgos of my mistake? OH!" The blue growled with humiliation as she spun upward and did her best to throw Shandori from her back.

"Knock it off!" Shandori growled, punching her bucking mount only to hastily return the offending hand to a desperate grasp.

"Lumigosa! This is no time for games, get back to the sea and extinguish those fires!" an elder blue female snorted as she delivered her payload, pulling out a large patch of fires in the smoldering branches. If it was possible for Lumigosa to blush in that form, her face would have been purple with rage.

"Y-Yes mistress!" Lumigosa replied as she watched the skillful consort to the aspect of magic plunge with grace toward the salty water. With her magical skill, the consort of Kalecgos and leader of the blue dragons in the White Branch Initiative enhanced the quenching ability of the frothy, arcane brew, removed its potential explosive magical elements, and rose again to deliver another saving swath in the enflamed branches.

"Damn it Tyrygosa, you old hag! You shall not out-do me!" Lumigosa quietly proclaimed as she shot downward like a blue bullet. Shandori screamed as the rush of wind filled her mouth and threatened to peal back her eyelids. As Lumigosa rose again, she brashly sprayed her own purified brew, but only a third of it actually struck the tree itself. The rest spread over open air and fell back into the sea. "Damnit!"

"Hey, you want my opinion? Calm the fuck down and concentrate, you know?" Shandori screamed as the angry dragon twisted in the air, nearly sending her burden flying off. "Uh, I mean! If you want to look good and show her up there are better ways to do it!" Shandori let out a sigh of relief as the young dragon slowed.

"Oh?"

"Y-Yeah."

"How? I was tasked with putting the fires out…" Lumigosa asked with an eye-ridge lifted.

"W-Well that's all fine and good if you can put the water on the fire, I MEAN, you know, better than she can. But what if you go above and beyond that like, say…" Shandori scrambled to finish her thought as something glittering above caught her attention. A great violet dragon was speedily flying away from the tree with something shiny and expensive-looking in its clutches. Shandori smiled.

"…killing a thief, and bringing back whatever that thing is! Look up!" Shandori pointed as if the dragon would be able to see. Lumigosa looked to the fleeing Balumbra and gasped at the sight of the Mydrassil gem in his grasp.

"He must be stopped!"

"That's the spirit, now stop twirling and go get him!"

"I shall, and you shall assist me, servant!" Lumigosa shouted as she sped off in pursuit, ignoring her flight's angry and frustrated calls.

"Who are you calling a servant?"

"The mortal on my back who certainly wishes NOT to the thrown off or burned then eaten for her insolence."

"…yes ma'am!" Shandori nervously giggled as the pair continued in their pursuit of Mydrassil's gem.

* * *

**STRAYDOG EXTRA: Author Message/Straydog Side Stories Character Submission**

**Author Message**

Dear Readers,

Since July is often the summer vacation/holiday season I realize people will be out of town or just plain busy. Just because you're AFK doesn't mean you have to be AFSP (away from smart phone). I now have a Twitter handle which I'll post notices of future updates to stories, reviews to other stories, and whatever else comes to mind (don't worry I know you all don't care to know what I ate for breakfast or what my dog dragged into the house, etc) My handle is: OriWhiteDeer please follow me! Also, I do apreciate all the feedback I can get. Love my stories? Hate them? No review gets deleted. I want to know how you think I'm doing. So please, help a fan fic writer, and leave feedback.

Regards,

- Ori

**Straydog Side Stories Character Submission**

Over the course of the next few weeks I'll be writing 3 side stories based on the Straydog Saga. That's a lot of characters to create! Would you like to be a guest in the SDS world? If you're interested in creating a character for one of the SDS side stories please send me a private message! You can submit a character to one or all of the following three stories:

"_**Imajin That!"(Featuring Imajin, Romulus)**_

_(When an ambitious young troll magically disguises herself as a gnome in order to study in Dalaran, mayhem ensues! Can Imajin cope with student life, keep her secret, and become a powerful archmage? Side story leading up to "Straydog Saga")_

"_**Kill Ill…idan Vol 1!"(Featuring Orifiel, Violetina, Seth, and Meryld)**_

_(With the death of her beloved mortal mother, Orifiel throws herself into her priestly work. When a chance to visit the mysterious "Outlands" comes, she takes it and gets tangled in a black dragon's diabolical plans. Story taking place before "Straydog Saga")_

"_**The Because WoW Needs More Dragons Adventure!"(Featuring Thelma, Jango, Violetina)**_

_(Can the noble and graceful defenders of Azeroth keep these wacky mortals in check long enough to defeat the terrifying Deahtwing? Story taking place before "Straydog Saga")_


	31. Flea 31: Everybody Hurts

**Straydog Saga**

Flea 31: Everybody Hurts

* * *

"So…what's the damage?" Orifiel weakly sighed. The defeat in her heart flowed lazily in her veins despite their slight victory over the hidden Twilight flight. She sat, back hunched and aching forehead in her bandaged hand, and listened as what was left of her staff gave their reports. Seth, who proudly but shakily stood behind his mate, placed a gentle hand on Orifiel's shoulder as Malfurion spoke first.

"The dragons have stopped the fires. My druids have been rescuing those still trapped in the tree and bringing them to a clean area. We're healing who we can and giving rites to those we can't."

"How many?" Orifiel interrupted.

"I am uncertain of the number, but it is a touch over 100." Malfurion looked to the small figure beside him. Geena Foggybottom, who flew to the tree along with the rest of the White-Water trade officers after the fighting was over, crossed her arms and looked to the ailing priest.

"The more charitable members of the cartel and our Horde allies have sent boats and planes with supplies to the evacuees. The Warchief doesn't need to know about that, but the sooner we can get your people back in the tree and off our shores the better. The trade prince may come looking for favors, but even he knows better to come poking by when the chips are down," Foggybottom affirmed. Though still quite shocked over Seth's transformation and the dragon's involvement in the tree, Anduin Wrynn rushed home to Stormwind to bring back any and all aid his father could spare.

"How long until we can repair the damage?"

"Because the dragons didn't freeze the fires, repair of the limbs shall only take a few weeks with Malfurion's druids and the Earthen Ring on the job. We still need to test the structural integrity of the woven sections of the upper bough, but we can start cleaning up and moving people back into the trunk in a few days. And…many left before too much could be seen in regards to Lord Nightgaze et all. Our mutual 'cover' should not be compromised too badly, nothing that can't be explained away or denied somehow," Romulus spoke up.

Orifiel turned to see two unfamiliar figures standing beside the dragon-mage. Keesha, who stood beside Hanariel and a clinging Inge in the small gathering place, recognized the sweet-faced troll with the short orange hair, but the goblin shaman was a stranger in her sight. The questioning look on Orifiel's face spoke before her lips could, and Romulus was even quicker to explain himself.

"These are my personal assistants: Imajin Ation and Fabrizzia Bomberlock. Imajin was one of those carrying our scrying necklaces that made our monitoring possible and is a prized student of mine. F-bomb here ensured Ima's continued safety. They have agreed, neigh insisted, on helping repair the tree and with its care," Romulus explained. Ima blushed and turned bright red at the warm tone Romulus used when he spoke of her. Despite the fact that she knew he was a dragon, the thought of his approving smile still made her heart race.

"It's the least we can do for the damage we did, right girlie?" F-bomb spoke, casting an upward glance to the tomato-faced mage. Imajin gave a firm nod, but found herself unable to look at anything but the floor. Keesha frowned but remained silent.

"That's fine. We'll have to meet with the White Branch Dragon-Council and co-ordinate repair efforts with them. Romulus, I'll let you handle that; I will hold a second meeting once all affairs are in order. We'll also begin planning a memorial plot and services for the lost. I know many did not have homes or families to be sent back to." Orifiel's voice broke. She did not want those in the room to see a hidden dragon cry over the loss of mortal life, but the tears came all the same.

"Don't fret…too much. You saved many more…than were lost." Seth struggled to speak and breathe at the same time. He gripped her shoulder as firmly as his strained fingers and bandages would allow.

"L-Lady Whitedeer? I-Is it ok for me to address you?" Ima softly asked. Orifiel's golden gaze turned to the troll who did her best not to collapse in the priestess's sight. The priestess gave her a weak smile.

"Of course."

"W-We came with friends as I'm sure you know. They were tricked too. I-If any were hurt or…would they have been taken to the clean zone too?" Ima's heart threatened to leap from her throat. It took everything she had not to burst out in tears at the thought as she heard a small sigh. Orifiel looked to Malfurion who quickly nodded and replied.

"Yes. The dead and critically injured from both sides were taken to the clean zone. Although if your friends were identified as enemies and were found uninjured, they were taken to the holding area in the Tangled Canal."

"I do not wish to expose the elekk in the room, as the draenei say, but what about the gem? Keesha tells me it was taken in the battle by a dragon. The injured should be cared for and the fallen souls put to rest, but should we not spend more time retrieving it? If there is more to all this, as I'm sure we all suspect, couldn't the gem be used for some sinister purpose?" Hanariel carefully spoke. He did his best not to smile at the irony of the statement. Orifiel did not deny the idea's merit, but shook her head as she wiped the wetness from her face.

"The gem was giant, glowing bait and little more. I shall explain its true purpose in more detail later. Just know that it's worthless to our enemies and worth far less effort on our part. My son is in pursuit of the dragon and, as lady Tyrygosa briefly informed me, one of her own flight also gave chase." Orifiel paused for a moment as Romulus made a motion to speak.

"I have also sent one of my consorts to locate the gem. Surely three against one will work out in our favor," Romulus informed.

"Hopefully they will be enough to get it back. If not, it is of no real consequence. Just a few pissed-off dragon aspects and their minions," Orifiel informed with a bitter smile as she moved to stand. "But there is something here, in the Tangled Canal that would be a problem if tampered with. Now that we know for certain that the Twilight's Hammer is still active, we need to take better care to see it is not disturbed. Romulus, please escort Lady Hazzad and Lord Dawnblade to the shrine and debrief them. Seth and I have our own tasks in the Tangled Cannal to deal with. Ima and F-bomb, if you wish to see your friends' fates, I will be going to the two places they will be if you wish to accompany me." Orifiel offered. Her proposal earned her two enthusiastic and grateful nods.

"Lady Whitedeer, that's not necessary." Keesha informed, looking to Hanariel, who nodded in agreement.

"We already know what lies within the shrine; we saw it in the golden ether." Hanariel said, referring to the time both he and Keesha jointly meditated and traveled into the tree, meeting with Net and Orin about their mysteries of destiny. Orifiel looked to them with surprise in her eyes before a much needed smile came to her face.

"You both are far more advanced than I could have hoped. Then you know why it must be guarded?" Orifiel looked to the pair and received confirming nods.

"Those filthy monstrosities won't get near the shrine. I simply won't allow it. But I will need to check out the damage in the roots." Keesha shrugged.

"The roots are fine; the majority of the damage was done to the upper bough and trunk." Romulus nodded.

"Lady Whitedeer, I do have one request. I believe, if my visions are correct, that there is someone who is currently in the Tangled Canal who I do very much wish to see. Would you mind terribly if I came with you and the others?" Hanariel asked. Orifiel shook her head.

"Of course not, Han. Now, let's get this tree back in order."

* * *

Morion felt a light squeeze on his trembling hand. He didn't realize how much he was shaking until the one beside him shifted to keep him walking straight. Looking to the sheet-covered forms made his heart nearly stop each time his eyes came to rest on one of the unmoving white-clothed bodies. Each body, once a person, could have been his wife, or her mother, or his sister, or at worst, the body of a newborn nightelf. The rows of bodies, each with a small candle burning at their feet or hooves, seemed endless; but each outline was too large, too stout, too masculine, or any slight quality that would differ from his loved ones. The one who claimed his shaking hand and kept him steady was his new-found friend, a smiling shaman whose cheer kept him from collapsing at each corpse they came to.

"Stay calm. It is ok. Tink te best," Violetina softly whispered. Her own memories of fallen loved ones came to the surface, but she did her best to keep a sweet smile for the barely-composed hunter.

They passed mourning mothers and fallen comrades. They could hear faint moaning from those who were still alive, but didn't have much time left; their only comfort being the ability to say goodbye to their loved ones. The dead Twilights were given no such luxury. The empty violet and mint-dressed husks lay like spare baggage. Though rites were performed for their spirits, darkness seemed to linger around their forms.

Violetina noticed a particular pair, who sat among their enemies, who seemed exempt from the permeating sickness of evil. She recognized them as two of the members of Bodyl's mercenary group, but Violetina did not stop as the wavering hunter beside her could collapse at any moment.

"M-Morion," a tired voice called. Morion's form seemed to freeze. His heart beat so quickly he thought it might explode. As he turned, a scar-smile met his trembling vision.

"Falina, you're alive? Where's Luny? Iona? What happened?" Morion demanded with panic in his voice. Falina shook her head as the little bundle in her strong arms began to shift.

"They're alive and well, if not exhausted, thanks to this little hero." Falina sweetly smiled and shifted her arms to pass the child to his heart-sick father. Morion laughed as tears of relief and joy threatened to wash over the trembling, egg-plant of a child in his arms.

The newborn did not bother to open eyes that matched his father's, but Morion could clearly see from the little tuft of verdant hair atop his head that that babe was very much his mother's son, in appearance at least. Falina continued her explanation.

"Fastest birth I've ever witnessed, especially for a first child. It's as if he knew time was short. We were able to escape through the emergency portals before a single fire started. I know it might be a bit dangerous to bring him here, but I was assured that the area is secure and, if you were still alive, I figured he'd be a most welcome sight." Falina sighed as a strange glow seemed to surround the man and his boy. Violetina couldn't help but hug them both in congratulation.

"So cute. Come, we should go. Tis place is no place for baby," Violet whispered as she made silly sounds at the baby while tickling his tiny nose. Alorion Catwhisper giggled in response as his relieved father and his companions left the specter of death for the shore where his wife and family eagerly awaited his return.

* * *

Chistoffel shivered, but the air around him was pleasantly warm. Soothing water running along the root-chamber that was his prison did nothing to stop his constant shaking. The fel blades that were his daggers did far more than keep the blood of his enemies flowing. Their soothing, near-constant flow of fel nourishment kept the trembling assault away, but it had been nearly a day since he lost his precious source of energy, and his stomach began to turn. The muscles in his back would surely hurt later, if he could ever find stillness again.

But his pangs of withdrawl paled in comparison the murky mind that kept redundantly playing images of his partner's fall. Her voice rang his ears. The sight of her terror-drenched eyes could still be seen even as Christoffel clinched his eyelids shut. He let out a desperate grunt as he punched a wall, but the force was barely enough to scratch his knuckles. The occasional roar of agony eerily echoed through the Tangled Canal, but Christoffel could not find the compassion to worry for the unfortunate creature.

Christoffel could vaguely make out a dim golden light coming from just outside the root-woven bars of his prison cell. He did not turn when addressed; Christoffel could barely make out the words as they came in muffled in his clouded attention.

The figure concentrated on the bars, and though they were not of his specific path, the roots obeyed Keesha's mate. As he walked in, Hanariel could feel the air around his brother grow dense with emotion. Hanariel took a deep breath and then another. Kneeling, in a shaking heap, was his only remaining family, and he struggled to find words.

"Y-You've caused quite a bit of trouble haven't you?" Hanariel spoke with no response. Christoffel didn't move save for his constant shaking, and made no sign that he even heard the statement. Hanariel tried again with something a touch more blunt. "I'm sure mother would have put you in the corner for it. But I'm sure Ven would have snuck you treats like he always did." In an instant the dense air shifted as Christoffel's body twitched. He did not turn, but the words did seem to reach him as the blood elf let out a snort.

"L-Leave me the f-fuck alone," Christoffel scoffed. He did not turn to see whatever hallucination the tree was providing in his shuttering, fel-deprived state. The look on Hanariel's face shifted from concern to pure pity.

"Are the pangs that terrible, Narlyn?"

"Y-You're not real, go away!" Christoffel growled as sweat began to roll down his forehead in earnest. Hanariel sighed and pulled something from a pouch at his hip. The small arcane crystal, that was his constant temptation and a vehicle to help maintain his self control, rolled about in his hand like a beacon. Hanariel effortlessly tossed the tiny trinket to Christoffel, who hungrily accepted the morsel.

"This should clear your mind. Do you still find me an illusion?" Hanariel softly asked. Christoffel could feel things start to come into focus. The water seemed crisp on the woven walls, his muscles began to ache as they finally stopped twitching, and the glow coming from the elf behind him irritated his renewed vision. Christoffel turned to further inspect his visitor.

Though the one-armed figure seemed somewhat familiar, the confident, rune-bathed, and bearded elf with glowing golden eyes seemed too strange to be anyone he knew, let alone someone who knew him so well.

"Who the hell are you and how do you know that name?" Christoffel asked as his breathing began to steady. The figure seemed surprised by the statement, but quickly masked his shock with an amused smile.

"H-Have I really changed so much? Perhaps this will help…" Hanariel sighed and slowed his breathing. Christoffel marveled as the air around the figure began to distort, as the threads that composed the present began to unravel, and stitch back together again. As the days, weeks, and months around Hanariel began to regress, so too did his form. His confident stance began to falter, his chin and cheeks became bare, his missing arm was returned, and when the strange occurrence ended, Christoffel felt the air in his lungs knocked from his body.

"This…this is some kind of trick!" Christoffel shot to his feet as Hanariel looked to his alien arm and wiggled his long-missing fingers. Though the appendage felt wrong for the time in which he dwelled, Hanariel kept it there for the purposes of his demonstration. He looked to his brother and shook his head.

"It's no trick, Narlyn. I-I thought you were dead, with the others. It was not until I gained my new abilities did I learn you still lived. I know it must be a shock to you, but brother I…I'm still here." Hanariel seemed to exhale as if he was holding his breath the entire time. His form began to speed back to the present in a flurry of threads and golden light. His arm was gone, and all was right in the world. "Ah, that's much better."

"Nice trick. Did the black dragon put you up to this?" Christoffel accused. Hanariel shook his head.

"Black dragons have no talent for time, brother. And Lord Nightgaze is not our enemy any more than Shandori is." Hanariel's statement caused a murderous, grief-ridden look to flare in the blood elf's eyes. Despite the menacing nature of the look, Hanariel chuckled. "My, you do care for her don't you? Father would never have approved of it, but I vow to keep an open mind."

"You're fucking dead!" Christoffel lunged forward with a fist ready to strike at the supposed brother's smiling face. But in a flash of golden light and threaded air Hanariel moved to avoid the blow, and with a quick but firm chop sent his brother to the floor.

"Why are you… oh that's right! Forgive me, brother. I've been a little spacey as of late when it comes to the timeline. You couldn't have known."

"Known what?" Christoffel spat, trying to strike at Hanariel's legs. Once again the quick attack met nothing but a few loose threads.

"I have checked my book and Shandori's story is still being written," Hanariel cheerfully spoke, referring to his former holy book turned mystic tome.

"What the hell does that mean?"

"She still breathes, Narlyn. Your love is still alive." Hanariel spoke with a serious expression. Christoffel gave a bitter laugh.

"I don't know what you're playing at, stranger. Sh-Shandori fell out of the fucking tree. No way she's alive." Christoffel did his best to hide his guilt and grief as he took another strike. But no matter what he did, the golden elf seemed to smile and evade.

"It is your choice whether or not to trust my words, brother. But be warned, if I leave without you as my brother, the next visitor will not be so forgiving of your trespasses here," Hanariel warned. Christoffel made a rude gesture to the High Mystic and told him exactly where he could go. Hanariel gave a sigh and a nod to his stubborn and untrusting brother.

"So be it. You will know the truth of things in time," Hanariel spoke as made his way to the cell's exit. After turning his back to his agile brother, Hanariel felt a sharp pain between his shoulder-blades. Christoffel managed to get a quick punch in, but the smiling action quickly turned to one of sheer horror as the runes on Hanariel's body flared. Suddenly, a thousand images flashed in their minds.

Hanariel could feel the golden ether calling, and through his brother's links and memories, the High Mystic was able to see terrible black holes in the golden timeline, ones that if left un-stitched could cause havoc for the true destiny of the world. It was then a face flashed in both their minds.

The dark-haired elf, tortured and aged well beyond his years, seemed to gasp at them in surprise. Christoffel shouted obscenities at the strange elf, who could have passed for the rogue in his elder years. Hanariel knew the elder from his own childhood. The face matched the family friend and betrayer who would later become his mother's rapist and Narlyn Dawnblade's biological father. That same face was seen by Christoffel in his darkest nightmares, thanks to a chance encounter with a bronze dragon after his mother's death and his own self-imposed exile.

"Hollus Fenweaver…how?" Hanariel began to say, but the image sharply cut away as the connection and the strike concluded, leaving two distressed and confused brothers to ponder the meaning.

* * *

Maiev had not felt such emptiness since the day she destroyed the only meaning left in her long life. The only small comfort she had, as she knelt beside her fallen friend, was the fact that she was afforded one last smile and a warm farewell. None of the others would have such a gift. None of the Maiev's friends would even learn of her companion's demise until the fallen was long buried in their homeland. The smoke and the battle had been too much for the veteran, who had seen the rise and fall of many evils in her world. Maiev could feel more than the weight of survivor's guilt clawing at his back, as she muttered at a hidden specter, who licking her ears with torturous delight.

As Maiev struggled with her loss and the demons still yet undefeated, eyes that matched the beloved dead's woke to a strange scene. The area around the young human woman seemed to be drenched in clouds. She was wearing a dress she hadn't seen since she was barely out of her teen years. She touched her cheek and found no moles or wrinkles. Her form was several layers thinner and her boned did not ache as they usually did.

Meryld sat up in the comfortable bed within her favorite inn, one long destroyed since Lorederon's fall. She walked to the window and was met with a silent scene. Fruit was fresh inside polished cards. Flowers of all sorts decorated festival tents. All was silent as she heard the clinking of bar steins come from the dining area below.

She swiftly left her room, and traveled down a solid flight of stairs to see a phantom party below. Roated boar, pheasant, and all sorts of delightful scents met her nose as she continued to the main dining area. The crowd was thick, but full of strangers. As she approached, the laughing and drunk patrons began to fade into silence. One by one they disappeared until there were only two others in the strange space: the bar tender, and a tall figure ordering two drinks.

As Meryld approached them, her soul began to beat as readily as her living heart would have. The handsome elf with the human-style hair cut turned and gave her a long-lost smile.

"Damn, you're slow woman," Venlyn Dawnblade joked, causing Meryld to give a scolding smile.

"Its not my fault you're too quick." Meryld did her best to keep the joke rolling as tears came down instead. She ran to the lover who was stolen from her in life by duty, prejudice, and family to give him the tightest hug she could muster. "Am I dreaming?"

"No, I'm fairly certain you're dead," Venlyn spoke, returning the embrace and resting his face in her long, brown hair.

"What about rabbit ears and the others?"

"No, if any of your companions joined you in your state, they'd be here. Although I'm sort of glad. Now I have you all to myself again. No prying eyes or my father to keep you away," Venlyn joked, wiping the tears from his lover's face.

"Will they be alright?"

"I don't know; I'm a dead guy not a seer," Venlyn shrugged as the bar tender placed their drinks before them. "Your favorite was Dwarven double-barrel right?"

"You remembered." Meryld smiled as she took her drinking stein. The pair gave a cheer before clinking their steins together and taking a relished swig. The flavors were far more bold and clear than they ever could have been in life. "Still, it's a bit much to take…being dead and all. I sort of want to get back into the fight." Meryld sighed.

"I know the feeling. The kid isn't doing so well right now. I can only hope Han and Dori will be enough to bring him back from his dark path. I wanna be able to greet him here when it's his time too. Death isn't always a reward to everyone." Venlyn sighed, of all the dark, twisted souls on Azeroth, the image of Venlyn's own, fallen father was the most vivid in his mind. "But that's not our problem anymore. We can't help them with their fates; we can only beg the light to guide them, as it has guided us here."

"Don't you get all preachy on me."

"Uh, hello? I was a paladin in a long line of clerics and preachers. I believe it's my right," Venlyn teased as he took another swig of his drink.

"Oh well. The only one, who could ever reach me, was the son of a preacher man." Meryld shook her head with a smile as she finished the last of her drink.

"We should get going. There's a lot around here I want to show you." Venlyn stood and offered his beloved his ghostly hand. Meryld took it without hesitation. The couple didn't notice the scene around them fade as, at last, the loving souls were at rest in each other's company.


	32. Flea 32: The Land of the Ice and Snow

**Straydog Saga**

Flea 32: The Land of the Ice and Snow

* * *

"Why did you…drag me out of …bed for this?" Seth wheezed as he limped along one of cleaner, less damaged hallways within in upper bough. Reconstruction had already begun thanks to the dragons' efforts coupled with the indomitable will of the mortals who aided them. Romulus snorted for a moment before replying.

"Do not blame me for this. Your presence was requested by the council, specifically the obsidian representative. Apparently your kind cannot accept the word of dragons unless they're dressed in black," Romulus calmly cast a verbal stab. Seth cast him a cool smile, eyes squinting with relish.

"At least one…among those fools has…good taste. It will be good…to see young Nalice again. She always has…such 'kind' words for you, 'dragon prince.'" Seth weakly chuckled with a cough. The sight of the red dragon cringing and the sound of muffled, draconic curses coming from the son of Tyranastrasz and Alexstrasza were like sweet honey to the black dragon's senses.

"Whatever. Let's just get this over with, shall we?" Romulus growled.

"For once…we are in agreement," Seth coughed. As they entered what was left of the Pinnacle Bough's main chamber, several small forms dwelled within the broken but still standing structure that were not of mortal origin. The dragons waited in the meeting space, tended to by Romulus' staff as the pair approached. Romulus gave courteous nods and generic greetings to them all, stopping to bow low to one of the few beings he would ever humble himself before.

"Lady Zenza, I am pleased you came. I take it mother is otherwise engaged?" Romulus bowed to his teacher, in fact the teacher-mother of the red flight known as Zenzastrasza, as she smiled and returned the gesture.

"She is, but she sends her regards and has sent me in her stead. I will keep her well informed," Zenza replied.

"I see some changes, possibly other substitutes in the council; should we conduct a brief introduction, then? I am Romilstraz, head of operations." Romulus subtly nudged Seth, who seemed to be staring in awe of another who stood among them. Romulus cast him a questioning look as small beads of sweat formed on the elf's indigo forehead. Zenza introduced herself next as the other dragons each gave their introductions, noting their status and place in the White Branch Initiative.

Chrozdormu, also known to his mortal friends as "Chromie" the female gnome, represented the bronze dragonflight along with his young assistant, a shy and demure-looking, high elf-disguised female named Bryiedormi. Bryie, as she was encouraged to call herself by her elder brother, gave a blush and a bow in respect for those higher than her station.

From the green dragonflight was the high elf-disguised Wyrmrest Ambassador known to his colleagues as Itharius. The leader of the azure part of the initiative, the high elf-bodied Tyrygosa, gave a short introduction and looked to the dark human beside her. The calm, almost serene dragon in human form cleared his throat.

"I am Sabellion, elder of the new black flight. Ambassador Nalice had other, more important matters at the temple to attend to, and I shall be her replacement moving forward," the slayer of gron, former general of Deathwing, and younger brother to Setharion spoke, casting a dark look to the sweating dragon. Sabellion closed his eyes and gave a respectful nod to Orifiel's mate, and made no ill gestures.

"S-Setharion. Head assistant to Lady Whitedeer." The title seemed to cause Sabellion to softly smile with amusement in his deep brown eyes. Guilt, shame, and the rare emotion of fear flowed through Setharion as the human-dressed dragon looked to him with a strangely warm, though still highly guarded expression.

"Lady Whitedeer regrets she could not attend this meeting, but will conduct her own session once her tasks have died down," Romulus informed, "but for now we can give you any information you require."

"Are the remains safe?" Zenza spoke without pretense. The other dragons seemed to wait with held breath for the answer.

"Y-Yes, they are safe. My High Mystic…is seeing to greater wards and…pr-protections around the shrine as we speak," Setharion quickly spoke between struggling breaths. Sabellion looked to his elder brother with a scrutinizing gaze. Though his will was sound and his pride boundless, the other dragons could see the braces and bandages where Orifiel's healing ability did not touch.

Though it was well within her healing abilities to mend him completely, Seth did not allow his precious mate to heal him at the cost of her own energy and health. Orifiel healed as much as she could in her weakened state, but passed out before repairing several nasty wounds on his upper body.

Chromie whispered to his younger sister, sending her scurrying to find a seat. When she returned, she placed a small, wobbly chair behind Seth and he thankfully sat. His gentle gratitude to the bronze dragon caused Sabellion's thick brow to rise.

"What about the gem? Has it been returned?" Itharius asked as he crossed his jade-gloved arms. Romulus stammered for a second before picking his thoughts and his words carefully.

"The gem has not yet been returned, but we have three of our strongest pursuing it. I have great confidence that it will be returned before the week is out," Romulus nodded. The doubting look on Zenza's face caused a rare shiver to run through the boundlessly confident dragon.

"From what I've been told, so long as the shrine is safe, we have nothing to worry about. If anything this will present a golden opportunity to find out WHERE these Twilight Dragons are coming from," Chromie spoke as the tension in the room began to rise well above his short gnome's head.

"That's true; I know the red flight has been tirelessly scouring the Twilight Highlands for decades now. Grim Batol has been stripped. If they do not lurk in the old bastions, then where are they coming from? How could they have bred such a force as to do such damage to this place?" Itharius mused.

"Hopefully the three will be able to attain this information. If the gem is lost, that would be the only good that could be gained from this gross failure in security," Tyrygosa glared at Romulus and spoke with venom leased from the lips of black dragons. The sentiment was so overt that Sabellion resisted the urge to snort in amusement.

"Moving forward, we should alert the Horde and Alliance of this threat. We can then let the mortals do most of the work for us, as they always seem to, and hopefully things will go in all our favors," Chromie suggested. The other dragons nodded in agreement.

"The mortals of the various factions will be aware of this within the next few days. Lord Stormrage, Thrall, Lady Foggybottom, and Prince Anduin will alert the factions. Lady Windrunner will alert both Dalaran and the Argent groups. Someone will find the nest eventually," Seth spoke, finally catching his breath.

"If there are no more questions we may adjourn for the day," Romulus spoke, eager eyes scanning the faces of the White Branch Dragon Council for any further inquiries. Finding none, he called the meeting and the dragons went about their business, save two.

"Lord Nightgaze may we walk, or perhaps sit, for a moment?" Sabellion asked. When he was certain the other dragons were out of eye and earshot, he cast his brother a strangely warm smile. "It has been a long time, brother."

"Y-Yes indeed it has been quite a while," Setharion winced has he stood, refusing any help offered from his younger brother, as he did his best to walk without limping in pain. The pair left the meeting space for one of the abandoned, and still damaged, patio cafés. They lifted two toppled chairs and a tiled table and sat across from one another as if awaiting a waitress with menus.

"I did not believe the rumors when I finally arrived here form Draenor. I knew father had passed, but that was inevitable, it seems. But you…I thought you perished in the Black Temple. Imagine my surprise to learn that, not only were you alive, you were a part of this…'accord'," Sabellion spoke, doing his best to hide his revulsion. He quickly shifted shook his head as he saw his brother's shoulder's physically sink. "I did not mean…"

"I am sorry I disappoint you, my brother. But I have always been disappointing to my family; do my actions frankly surprise you?" Setharion bitterly asked. The reserved Sabellion fought the urge to reach a hand to his brother in earnest apology, keeping his posture and arms folded in his lap. But his expressive eyes spoke a thousand apologies louder than his lips were capable.

"I meant no such sentiment, my brother. It's…it's very good to see you alive."

"This pain will pass. Was Nalice truly too busy to come today or did you request her position to berate me?"

"Neither. I came to see my brother, whom I thought was dead." Sabellion's voice cracked, but the wall that barred his carefully controlled emotions held. He had no choice but to look away, unless his eyes would betray his rigid mask. Setharion could see through the flimsy walls as if they were made of wind. He felt the anxiety in his chest begin to dissipate as fear's tight grip on his heart began to relinquish. There was a silence between them until Setharian let out a small sigh.

"Sentiment has never come easy to you, has it? Sure, ask Sabellion to demolish civilizations and level planets and he doesn't bat an eye; but when it comes to dealing with family, he's back to his whelping stage," Setharion joked.

"And composing yourself as a proper dragon of the black flight has never been within your ability either, my dear dirt-loving, female-fondling brother." Sabellion threw out the sharp statement with a stone-cold and serious expression. Within seconds, the pair were both sharing a deep, earthy laugh.

"Ah well, not anymore. I'm mated now," Setharion spoke as the laughter subsided.

"Mated? You? Who are you and what have you done with my brother?" Sabellion asked with a disbelieving laugh.

Sabellion's thoughts drifted to a time seldom remembered in their current moment. Images of their youthful forms began to form like a masterfully rendered painting. Sabellion could not find an image of Setharion in his mind that was without one or more lovely females in his brother's company.

Setharion, elder prince of the black flight, went through lesser ranked females like mortal children went through wrapped candies, according to Sabellion's recollection. Even after Deathwing's madness and Setharion's sinking status in the black flight, the females still thought of the strong, handsome Setharion, especially when in season. His brood was sizable until the black flight moved to Draenor, and was annihilated by the gron and other fearsome, dragon-eating creatures. Sabellion banished the stream of images as they turned to darker times that he himself kept at a constant distance.

"It is true. Perhaps it is my age, who knows? But I am properly mated I assure you."

"To whom? She's not a red is she?"

"TITANS, no," Setharion resisted the urge to wretch at the thought, "We have at least been able to confirm that. As annoying as that little prat Romilstraz is, he was useful in that regard. Do you remember the pale one?"

"…truly brother?" Sabellion bit back the shock and sickness in his stomach. "I am sorry, I meant no insult. B-But a pale one? You could have had any in our flight…"

"True, and I did, many, many times. I'm sure if I tried now, I could continue if I choose, but that is simply not who I wish to be anymore. My mate has helped me move on from that life and, as hard as it may be to believe, I feel I am a better being for it," Setharion assured, doing his best not to laugh at Sabellion's incredulous expression.

Albino dragons or "pale ones" as they were often called by the dragon flights, were considered mistakes of nature and often discarded by their brood mothers. Setharion knew this to be true of all flights, without exception and the very thought of the poor, wretched dragons used to turn his own stomach.

At best, they were found by mortals and taken in as pets. When they became too big to handle, many young children were told that their beloved pets had to go live in a large dragon farm in the highlands, and were never seen again save for great feasts at the family dinner table.

At worst, the young whelps were used as training dummies, beaten and abused until killed and devoured by their brood mates. Setharion had few memories from his whelp-hood, but the rare taste of pale dragon blood was not among them.

"If that is how you feel about the matter, then I am happy for you." Sabellion shook his head as if coated in a sudden chill.

"What about you, brother? I know the loss was especially hard on you, but have you found any females? Sired any more whelps to build the flight?"

"…I have not. Although being a long survivor and gron slayer does seem to catch a few of the younger females' attention. Perhaps someday," Sabellion shrugged, "I-I assume you and the pale one have tried?"

"Many failed broods, yes. Her questionable origin has made nesting nearly impossible but, we have hatched one whelp and rescued another from the usual fate of pale ones. Now that we know the proper nesting conditions for our broods, we would continue, if not for this blasted accord and task those fools beset upon us," Setharion hissed, deeply cursing the others in quiet draconic.

"Why do you bother participating in fools' folly? Did they threaten you?" Sabellion asked, tone going dead serious. Setharion firmly shook his head.

"No, nothing like that," Setharion sighed and leaned forward to speak a bit more softly, "Orifiel's condition pains her. I can see it even if she does not complain; it would pain any dragon. She desperately wishes to know her origin and, as futile as it would be, to rejoin her forsaking flight. The Wyrmrest Accord has interest in studying the tree and, when they proposed their task, vowed to affirm her origin suspicions, and welcome her to whatever flight she is from, if she succeeded in completing the task."

"And if they renege?" Sabellion asked with a raised brow. Setharion's expression grew dark, his eyes glowing with fear-inducing malice.

"If they put us through all of this for nothing, I will war on them with all my might," Setharion hissed and brought his clinched fist down on the table, tilting it sideways and causing fresh tears of pain to rush from his tightly shut eyes.

"And I would not be far behind. I have seen what they have done to the young generation; they're putting thoughts in the young ones' heads, making them ashamed of their black heritage. The blame and guilt they bear is too much, especially when it is not their fault. The actions and sins of elders should not be visited upon our young, and those loathsome wyrms know that," Sabellion shook his head, "But that discussion is for another time. I do not plan on leaving your side for quite a while, especially not while the filthy broods infest your home," Sabellion vowed, leaving little time for protest. Setharion gratefully accepted his younger brother's support.

"It is much appreciated, my brother," Setharion smiled.

* * *

Terronian felt a slight chill on his muzzle. Despite his great advantage in speed and agility, he had never flown so far in one sitting. He was better versed in running on two legs than flying with two wings. Though he had his mother's ability to burst forward, leaving golden rings of sound and fluxing time in his wake, the action caused his breaths to labor and his tongue to loll in the frigid air. But thoughts of his noble father fighting off the violet swarm rallied Terronian, causing his wings to beat beyond their normal stamina.

Lumigosa struggled to keep up-though she had been flying all her 100 years of life- in the wake of the strange golden sound waves. The soothing sound of the sea could not be heard in the high altitude, and offered no comfort to the panting dragon. All the while, Katastraza, whose strong elder wings carried her swiftly to allow her to catch up, followed with patient and steady wings. Her keen eyes kept the young blue dragon well in sight. Shandori could do little else but shiver as her breath began to show in pale white puffs.

Balumbra had a considerable lead on the trio of natural-born dragons, and his enhanced stamina made him nearly impossible to pursue for long. But the three dragons and their mortal assistant flew on, well passed the northern tip of Kalimdor. The sun was beginning to make its decent as frozen shores met their vision.

"Don't tell me…" Shandori sneezed. She looked to Limugosa's back, which was starting to accumulate a thin coat of frost.

"I can see the Wyrmrest Temple from here…we're approaching Northrend!" Lumigosa marveled.

"What? That's at least a two-day boat ride, how did we get here so fast?"

"Um, hello? You ride upon a marvelous and magical dragon. Surely I can carry you much faster than a wooden boat," Lumi snorted.

"Ok, ok, you have a point. Get a move on though, we're loosing them!" Shandori grunted as Lumi strangely obeyed. As the trail of dragons moved over the frozen wasteland, a golden stripe finally managed to catch up to the violet dragon.

Balumbra, realizing that Terronian was finally upon him, shifted the massive gem in his talons, and moved to swing his great clubbed tail in defense. The strike missed as Terronian sent a weak, but targeted burst of golden fire towards the violet dragon. The golden ball burned Balumbra but was not enough to knock him out of the sky. The sight of the Wyrmrest Temple caused Balumbra's eyes to go wide as he veered westward and desperately tried to shake his pursuer.

"You shall not escape me, abomination!"

"Pot calling the kettle black, aren't we mongrel?" Balumbra shot back as he opened his mouth wide to deliver a terrible arcane fireball. Terronian, tired and weak from the journey, could not avoid the blow as it nearly tore his right wing off. He struggled to stay aloft but found himself falling to the ground. Lumigosa roared as she finally caught up as well, sending an arcane and ice blast towards her enemy. The strike managed to freeze a section of Balumbra's tail. Another strike later and Balumbra nearly dropped the gem in his lacerated grip, but managed to hold on.

"Surrender the gem and I may spare you!" Lumi proudly proclaimed, breathing a haughty bolt of ice straight to Baulumbra's side. But the pain and the irritating strikes only served to fuel Balumbra's resolve. He shot bolt after bolt of arcane fire, nearly burning Shandori and hitting Lumigosa in the face. While the blue and the violet did battle, Kat found herself on the ground where the son of Setharion lay in a pool of his own blood.

"You will not die here, not on my watch," She softly spoke as healing energy flowed from her talons and into his terrible wounds.

"Th-The gem! Leave me, get the gem!" Terrionian spoke with blood dripping from his maw.

"Nonsense. The blue is keeping him busy. I will aid her when you are stable. Your father would roast me if I did not bring you back breathing," Kat assured, as all her concentration and focus rested on his injuries. They were too far from the Wyrmrest Temple for her calls to carry to any ally who could hear. It seemed it was up to Lumigosa to stop the violet dragon from reaching his secretive destination.

"Get me close!" Shandori shouted over the roar of magical strikes. Lumigosa was too busy shooting icy bolts to answer or argue. She flew in close to the violet dragon that sneered and moved to viciously bite the nape of her neck. But as the strike came, Shandori moved her arm, risking loss of grip, to send the pointed edge of her shield into one of Balumbra's glowing eyes with all her strength. Blood gushed from the ruined organ as Balumbra let out an agony-filled shriek.

"Take that you bastard- AAH!" Shandori felt her heart skip a beat as she nearly lost her balance, but Lumigosa quickly shifted so that Shandori fell back onto her. Shandori returned her grip in time to see the gem fall like a shining bullet to the ground as the violet dragon clutched its face and struggled to stay in the air. Lumi made sure her cargo had a firm grip before shooting to the ground after it. With a triumphant roar, Lumigosa felt the cool chime of stone in her talons.

"I have it!" Lumi cheered as she moved to return to the sky; but as soon as she made the motion, stars started shining in her vision. "Oh no…"

"Oh no? Oh no what?"

"T-Tired. We must hurry, to the temple!" Lumi breathlessly spoke. She knew what the stars in her eyes meant, as they had come many times before in her short life. Soon her her vision would be obstructed and worse, a terrible pain so horrid that her stomach would revolt was coming. She had only a brief few moments to fly the gem the rest of the distance before she would be unable to move let alone fly.

Katastraza, after the majority of Terronian's healing was done, watched with a light heart as the blue dragon flew towards the Wyrmrest Temple with something large and glittering in her talons. She heard a loud thud as a roaring dragon struck the ground, writhing in pain.

"Excuse me a moment," she spoke as she trundled towards the fallen violet dragon. With her claws on his throat and underbelly, Kat began her interrogation with an eager and snarling Terronian, healed and ready for vengeance.

* * *

"Is this thing really necessary?" Christoffel pilled at the tight collar around his neck. A fel crystal softly hummed beside two red gems within the collar, keeping the blood elf in a steady and satiated state.

"Considering your attempts on my safety and the fact that you still do not believe me, yes. Plus Lady Whitedeer insisted all prisoners be escorted with one," Hanariel dryly informed.

"What does it do?" Christoffel asked as he tried his best to loosen the strange device.

"If you try to harm me, escape, remove it, or any combination of the three it will blow your head off," Hanariel innocently smiled. Christoffel's eyes went wide as he struggled to find words strong enough to utter at the strange elf that claimed to be his living brother.

"You-You son of a bitch! Han would never have…"

"You're not the only one who is capable of change, 'Christoffel Stingblade.' Only I prefer to think I have changed for the better. Now stop your shouting: we're going to meet with my mate for a few moments before leaving," Hanariel firmly commanded. Christoffel, not testing the legitimacy of Hanariel's collar claims, obeyed.

"Wh-Where are you taking me?" Christoffel asked as his face began to grow a tint of white. Before Han could answer, a dark-skinned beauty with golden runes and a wicked smile came walking along the cell block. The High Mystic of the Root waved to the pair; the sight of the familiar but changed human made Christoffel audibly gape.

"Hey Han, sweetie, Lady Whitedeer said you'd be up here. Hello again blood elf, remember me?" Keesha smirked.

"Narlyn, you remember Lady Hazzad don't you?" Hanariel turned to see his red-faced brother choking back his rage.

"The bitch tried to kill me!" Christoffel shouted, as he realized the two red gems on his collar were blinking. His whole body froze as the sound of high-pitched beeping nearly made his heart stop.

"Now, now cupcake, I doubt you'll be able to say shit to me…without a head," Keesha darkly laughed. Hanariel sighed.

"Dearest, please do not instigate. I'd like to get him to Theramore in one piece."

"D-Dearest? Oh FUCK NO!" Christoffel growled and shook his head, denying the pair before him. "And why the hell are we going there for?" Christoffel shouted as the blinking lights reached a fever pitch. Hanariel softly smiled and looked Christoffel straight in the eye. The action seemed to calm the infuriated blood elf but the words that came next filled his aura with dread.

"We're going to pay a visit to a prisoner that does not officially exist."

"N-No I don't wanna see him," Christoffel shook his head as his knees went weak. Hanariel remained firm as the tired, drained, and demoralized blood elf's will began to crumble. "I don't want to SEE HIM."

"You do not have a say in the matter, but someday you will hopefully thank me for the opportunity to make peace before what has to be done is done."

"I don't care what happens to that shit-head. He ruined everything. Torture the bastard for a thousand years for all I care, but leave me the FUCK out of it," Christoffel growled. Christoffel could feel nothing but white-hot rage as the glowing mystics both started shifting their expressions to pity.

"I'm afraid I can't do that, Narlyn."

* * *

Night fell upon the frozen corpse of Balumbra. During Katastraza's interrogation, he had spoken very little. All he could feel was the open wound of his eye and the fatigue of his terrible pace. But his pounding heart soon gave out from the pain and stress of battle before a single word against his master could be uttered. Terronian and Katastraza could do nothing but fly in the direction Shandori and Lumigosa traveled in hopes of finding them both well in the temple, and the gem secured within.

But the violet corpse was not alone. A single figure dwelled beside it. The taint of darkness and stench of terrible power surrounded the miniscule figure as he kicked the dragon's flank with his gnome-sized foot.

"Useless," the figure spoke with a tiny voice, "You could not even die in a convenient manner."

The figure swelled into a pungent cloud of darkness in the landscape. Its energy melted the snow and imbued it with a strange violet-tinged light. Any animal that flew too close gagged on corrosive ichors and fell to the ground, dead.

The dark, poisonous being had to act fast, before the other dragons could come to investigate or reclaim the corpse. The large, cloudy figure sank its teeth deep into the dragon's frozen flesh and began to drink. The physical form broke down like frothy ale as the creature imbibed.

The dark master of the Twilight flight did not stop its sinister devouring until there was nothing but a small ditch where the body once lay. He shrank back into his gnomish disguise and fled back towards his lair's entrance, undetected and unknown to the creatures above.


	33. Flea 33: Don't be a drag

**Straydog Saga**

Flea 33: Don't be a drag, it's the Dragon Queen!

* * *

Shandori, for the first time in her young life, felt the blanket of humility draped over her hunched shoulders in the majesty of the Wyrmrest Temple. The pillars that held up the walls seemed to endlessly stretch to the grey skies above. The ghosts of the slain seemed to whisper among the clacking feet of the living on the polished marble floor.

Passersby ignored the warrior's presence as they went about their business. While Kat, Trenton, and a recovering Lumi conversed with the dragons at the top of the temple, the criminal-warrior was escorted about the lower part of the temple by two hulking red dragonkin. They said nothing as they led her to her room, where she would wait whatever fate the Wyrmrest dragons had in store.

The room was hardly a prison, though the decorated walls and soft, plush seats confined her. Her bars were finely crafted doors of metal and fine wood. Her prisoner's swill was fresh fruit and honey-wine. Her shambling bed was a crimson-draped four-poster with clouds for pillows and an ocean of velvet for sheets. Shandori noticed neatly folded linen robes, took off her grime-drenched clothes, and began to wash the battle from her form with a soft cloth and pure water within a fancy pot.

"Damn…they can put me away for life!" Shandori remarked to herself as dried herself off with a fresh cloth and changed into her prisoner's robe of soft linen before sinking into her velvety fate. Just as she was about to fully drift off into much a much-needed rest, Shandori heard the golden doorknob turn, and the door itself click open. Shandori slowly sat up and stretched as a humbly-robed figure walked in with a small basket. The figure, female by Shandori's measure, had her grey hood pulled well over her golden-eyed face, but the tall horns atop her head denoted a true draconic nature.

"I'm sorry, did I wake you dear?" the woman asked as she began picking up Shandori's battle-garb and placing it in the basket.

"N-no, you're-um, what are you doing?"

"Don't mind me, I'm just tidying up. How are you feeling?"

"Well enough, miss?" Shandori asked. The figure smiled beneath her hood for a moment.

"I have not been called 'miss' in quite a while! Such a delightful girl you are. I'm glad you seem well," the figure smiled with a humming laugh as she placed the basket beside the door.

"Ah Miss, why exactly am I…I mean? I appreciate the room and all but…"

"I know all about you, Shandori Sagesmoke. Everyone here has been talking about your acts. I must say, I had my own doubts about you, but the Dragon Queen is very pleased with your efforts, if what the others say is true. Did you truly strike down the twilight dragon with a single shield-strike?" Miss spoke with an airy awe in her voice. Shandori felt the glowing golden gaze bore into her like a gentle gimlet. A rare, bashful blush came to her cheeks.

"Err, well, that is to say I helped. The black dragon and Lumi did most of the work. It was pretty much a lucky shot. H-How is Lumi anyway? Didn't think we were going to make it here," Shandori nervously laughed.

"Lumigosa is mostly recovered. Arcane migraines are common in young, female blue dragons. And as far as your actions, such a thing is no small act, especially for a mortal. Although I have heard some…negative things as well. I'm sure it's nothing…" Miss smirked, trying to hold her ignorant masquerade beneath an opaque hood.

"L-Like what?" Shandori felt her heart sink to her feet as the mysterious Miss began telling a criminal tale of twilight cultists, mercenaries for hire, a renegade warrior and her strange collection of friends and hired help. When Miss stopped speaking the tense air nearly knocked Shandori back onto the bed.

"Is that accurate?" Miss smiled, resisting the urge to chuckle and the horror-stricken night elf.

"How do you know all that?"

"I am well read, lady Shandori. The charges against you are written on wanted posters all over Azeroth. I must say, your face doesn't seem as angry and malformed as depicted in them," Miss tilted her head as if trying to examine the night elf at another angle.

"S-So knowing what you do…what does your Dragon Queen want to do with me?" Shandori felt her knees begin to quiver.

"Well that is entirely up to you. She has not quite made up her mind yet, and I think she might be swayed. She sent me to examine you and, on my word, she may find mercy for you," Miss offered, taking a seat on the foot of the bed. Shandori felt her heart begin to thunder in her chest as the room slowly began to spin.

"I-I don't know what to tell you, then. Is she expecting me to have an awakening or something? See the error of my ways all of a sudden? Become a shining beacon of the righteous? If that's it, then she's going to be disappointed. Why would she spare me knowing what she does over any other criminal?" Shandori felt her voice give out as she breathed deep, trying to keep herself steady and awake. The injuries, smoke, and taxing events of the early morning were finally breaking down her defenses. Shandori's condition did not escape Miss's perceptive gaze.

"I cannot answer that," Miss shrugged, "All I can do is observe."

"So, what exactly are you seeing?" Shandori did her best to keep the bitterness from her voice. The indignant bile in her throat mixed with sheer exhaustion made it nearly impossible to stay conscious. Miss gave a soft laugh before replying.

"I see a young, scared woman who would sooner drape her own insecurity in layers of plate armor and curse words rather than be honest with herself. Are you a good person? I certainly cannot tell. But insecurity and denial do not a villain make. Not at this point, anyway." Miss stood and cast a significant look to the ailing elf that seemed to weakly teeter as if struck by a fatal arrow. "Sh-Shandori?" Miss moved towards the night elf that looked ready to pass out from sheer fatigue.

"Wh-What do you want with me? Who ARE you?"

"Shhhhh…enough for now. You can rest here until someone comes to fetch you," Miss softly spoke as she helped Shandori into bed. The motherly Miss tucked the night elf into bed as her heavy eyelids finally sunk in the tide of sleep. Miss left the room and looked to the red dragonkin as they clapped their talon-feet together in salute as their backs straightened. "At ease…"

In a beam of golden light, Miss was back in her usual place at the top of the Wyrmrest temple. She shed her humble garb and casual persona to reveal her royal attire and aspect's aura. The Dragon Queen Alextrasza bowed her head in recognition of her mortal-disguised guests, who bowed low save for one. Both Lumi and Kat grabbed Trenton's arms and forced the young dragon to his knees.

"Bow, stupid!" Kat growled.

"There is no need for that, ladies. I thank you all for waiting so patiently." Alex sighed as the trio rose to their feet.

"My queen, what is your decision?" Kat asked as Alex tilted her head in thought for a moment before answering.

"The mortal will be of use to us. She is not…too far gone. She will return to Mydrassil as a member of our efforts."

"And if she refuses?" Trenton interrupted, earning him a stern look from Kat. His words caused a small chuckle to escape the Dragon Queen's crimson lips.

"Shandori Sagesmoke, if my agents speak true, is a girl who has accumulated a great deal of 'trouble' in her life. Though I have only spoken with her briefly, I can tell that the absolution of said trouble will be more than enough of a payment for her services."

"Why do we even need such a person? We have great heroes of the mortal world all over this effort. Why would we let some criminal miscreant in our ranks?" Lumi forcefully, though tamed by fear of the aspect, asked.

"We all gotta start somewhere," Trenton mused, "I was privy to a lot of the intelligence gathered by my father and Lord Redmane. Shandori might be a criminal, but she's managed to not only collect a powerful group of allies, but earned their loyalty as well despite faction and race bias. If the great Thrall could start as a humble slave and end up as Warchief of the Horde, if Malfurion Stormrage could start as a fringe weirdo with strange magic and go on to become the leader of the druids, who's to say this one can't become something too."

"Well put, young one," Alex smiled.

"Suck-up." Kat playfully muttered.

"In any event, Kat and Lumi, you two are to return to Mydrassil with Shandori and bring word of the gem's whereabouts. I will provide documentation of her actions in retrieving the gem, so you need not explain her presence. The red flight will cut the gem here; and here is where it will remain. I have prepared a letter summons for your mother, Terronian, and I expect her in my presence in one week's time. The White Branch Dragon Council will ensure that all her duties are taken care of. I assume her mortal champions are able to care for the tree as needed?"

"Yes, queen. The High Mystics are more than ready to care for the tree. One of them even helped in the battle, and you should have seen her in action! She downed dragons with her bare hands! It was really cool actually," Trenton remarked as he made a chopping motion with his tightly-closed hand. Alexstrasza dismissed the two females in her sight with her summons in their capable claws, but called for Trenton to remain.

"Yes, queen?" Trenton asked as the smile on the gorgeous queen's glorious face made his heart skip a beat. She walked close to him and studied his features intently.

"Marvelous…you are truly a rare creature, if you don't mind me saying so."

"Me, mind a scantily clad queen of the dragons giving me a compliment? Hardly!" Trenton laughed, trying to keep his voice from cracking.

"Will you do me one favor?" Alex asked, with a slightly pleading look in her glowing golden orbs. Trenton swallowed and quickly nodded.

"The written summons calls for your mother only, as not to arise further suspicion among mortals. I assume your father will not allow her to travel here alone…and perhaps you would do well to stay here for the time being," Alex gave a friendly smile tinged with a hint of sadness Terronian couldn't place.

"Y-Yes, queen," Terronian's eyes went wide for a moment, "is it time?"

"Yes, it is." Alextrasza did her best to wear a genuine smile as the energy around the young dragon grew lighter than the gloomy air around them. Terronian obeyed her request, and made his way to the temple inn to acquire accommodations.

Alexstrasza was alone in the uppermost part of the temple save for her constant pack of guards that circled around the upper reaches. She walked towards one of the great open windows as all cheer escaped her expression with a long sigh. The chill wind ran through her long crimson tresses, as the shining snow seemed to overtake her vision.

The weight of what was to come began to strain the shoulders that had carried the burdens of the world time after time before. But such tasks as the one she was currently charged, though small in her monumental troubles, caused her heart to ache within her un-aging chest.

"By all that lives…I hope you know what you're doing," she softly muttered as she turned to address a faint shadow that quickly dissipated in the chill winds of Dragonblight.

* * *

Maiev silently watched as those around her descended into sorrow. Imajin could not stop the tears that were running down her warm, sob-blush cheeks. The memorial service had been quite beautiful. The mortal members of the White Branch Initiative slowly left the sheltering shore to the grim task of caring for the dead and rebuilding what they had come to know as home.

The bodies of the honored dead were treated in accordance of the cultures the produced them. Those who had alliance sympathies assisted in building the funeral pyres for their orc, troll, goblin, undead, and tauren comrades. Members of the horde helped build and prepare fine coffins for their human, draenei, worgen, dwarf, gnome, and elvin kin.

Maiev watched Imajin knelt beside the coffin of her elder friend Meryld, as F-bomb offered words of comfort to the young troll. Imajin could feel the energy of the tree surround them as small, wisp-like lights slowly danced about the coffins and magically- contained pyres.

It was then a great, antlered shadow fell upon the group. While Imajin and F-bomb continued to mourn their loss, Maiev felt a familiar set of eyes fixate on her back. A surprised and questioning voice called her name, and she turned with haunted eyes to see Malfurion Stormrage standing there, mouth agape with shock.

"I-Is that you?" His eyes scrambled to assess the shattered and faded armor. The figure's hair was white and hastily cut short, as if cropped with a Watcher's circular glaive. Her face seemed to age beyond what their mortal condition would allow, and a familiar darkness seemed to snicker behind her empty gaze. She gave him a bitter smile.

"Furion," she softly spoke as a mixed look of horror and pity came to his eyes.

"You-You're alive? What are you doing here? I thought you perished at the…"

"Obviously I did not," Maiev hissed, straining to keep from shouting beneath a calm tone, "but that is of no concern to you."

"It does concern me. Maiev, what it would mean to your brother…"

"I'm better off dead to him. DO NOT involve him in all of this." Maiev could no longer contain her contempt as several mourners turned to cast angry gazes at the night elves. Malfurion attempted to guide her away form the memorial service, but she forcefully wrenched herself from his grip. She swiftly, as only a warden of her former standing could do, glided from the area with the archdruid not far behind. Malfurion stopped short, as Maiev abruptly halted her gliding. They were alone in the corridor leading to the memorial when Maiev unleashed her wrath.

"Leave me! You do not know what it is you're interfering with. Besides, if I recall, I'm not exactly you're favorite elf in the world-"

"I have learned much in the ways of forgiveness since that time, Maiev. Whatever ill blood lies between us does not matter. It would do your brother well to have you back in his life."

"Not like this," Maiev shook her head, "My fate is of my own doing. I do not need your charity."

"I am not doing this for you," Malfurion flatly spoke. It was Maiev who made him feel the greatest sorrow he'd ever known in his life. When her lies, which led him to believe his beloved Tyrande was dead for weeks, were finally revealed by Kael'thas, Malfurion flew into a rage. But that was long ago, and time slowly turned that wound into a faded scar in his heart. "And I do not care about your pride."

There was a silence between the two ancients for a moment before Maiev's snarling face began to fade into a neutral mask once more.

"How is he? I heard whispers in the forest of his bravery against the Twilight Cult."

"Every whisper was true. He still resides at Hyjal if you would make the journey," Malfurion informed as Maiev quickly shook her head.

"He will not see me like this. The Maiev Shadowsong he knew died with your br-brother," Maiev's voice began to quiver as a sharp pain from behind her eyes caused her to grasp her face. It was then Malfurion felt a surge of darkness come from the former warden as the shadows around them seemed to cackle. He felt the touch of something far more sinister than a dreadlord could muster. He cast a healing spell on the trembling Maiev as she sank to one knee from the pain. As the druid spell grew in strength, the darkness waned.

When the spell ended and the darkness fully receded in the glowing space, Maiev wiped the pain-caused tears from her cheeks and gave a grateful nod.

"I think…I'm beginning to see what you mean," Malfurion sighed.

* * *

Hanariel did his best not to cough as he nearly choked on a bug. The majority of the flight decks in Mydrassil were still in a state of disrepair; most of the glorious mounts that dwelled there met a messy end at the bottom of the bay of storms or were too tired to fly after a long day of evacuation-travel.

But where there was pioneering spirit among mortals, there was a way. Though branch-beaten and dusty, Roth's engineering project still survived the horrible battle without suffering major damage. The engineer did not hesitate in his offer, eyes alight with desire to test out his new breed of engine with a back-up already in place. Roth's Outstanding Free-Lift or "R.O.F.L" copter lifted off for the first time that day in a glorious flurry of smoke, sputtering, and clanging might.

"Are you alright?" McGowan shouted over the sound of furiously chopping blades above as he steered their vehicle in the direction of Theramore. Hanariel nodded and cleared his throat.

"I am, thanks again for the use of your copter, you two. It's a miracle it didn't get damaged in the fray," Hanariel coughed as the taste of arid smoke came billowing into his mouth.

"No problem, Lord Dawnblade. It's a pleasure! But I gotta ask: you have mages to port you and dragons to fly you to Theramore. Why'd you ask us to tune up this awful flyer?"

"The mages were too busy fixing the tree to be bothered with such a troublesome task, and let's just say that we mortals are going to need to get used to fending for ourselves soon," Hanariel asserted with a smile.

McGowan returned the gesture with a knowing nod to the High Mystic as the copter lurched, but remained airborne. Roth, who accompanied Christoffel at the rear of the copter, constantly checked the rotor mechanism for any signs of imbalance or off-rhythms.

"She's looking solid still. What's our time?" Roth shouted. McGowan could barely hear him over the booming chops and occasional rattling noise from within. "Old bastard can't hear me," Roth sighed as he looked to the brooding elf beside him, "What's eating you?"

Christoffel turned to glare at the blue-eyed high elf before uttering a grunt and turned to continue staring into space.

"Ah, the dark silent type. Got it," Roth smirked, "Don't like being Lord Dawnblade's little bitch much, do ya blood elf?" The words stung in Christoffel's agitated mind, but Roth's voice gave the exhausted blood elf the sensation of having ants in his ears.

"Shut the fuck up before I throw you," Christoffel growled as the little red lights on his neck-guard began on blink. He clinched his eyes shut in an attempt to calm himself, but the smiling face of the orange-haired high elf made him want to kill something.

"Ohhh touchy. I see your grasp on human slang is of the highest caliber. I can get into that." Roth wiped his grimy nose with a dirty glove as he continued to wear his instigative smirk. "I hear you and your little friends helped that twilight scum break into the tree. I'm not surprised: I know I shouldn't expect a fel-junkie to have any kind of decency. Lord Dawnblade is certainly a man of his priestly principles to let you live…"

"Just. Stop. Talking," Christoffel's jaw began to ache from grinding his teeth.

"Why, don't like what I got to say?"

"No, the sound of your voice makes me want to choke the shit out you. Now SHUT UP!" Christoffel shouted, causing Hanariel to cast a worried glance behind him. Despite Roth's constant jabs, the four men managed to make it to Theramore without significant injury. Despite the constant threat of decapitation, Christoffel managed to visit a sizable bruise on Roth's wrenching arm.

The group disembarked after parking their questionable machine in the designated landing area, and awaited the retainer that Lady Jaina Proudmoore mentioned in her reply to the urgently scribed letter Hanariel had sent before his departure.

"Thank you again for your assistance, you two. Please take this as a token of my gratitude. But don't spend it on too many vices. We'll be heading back to Mydrassil in a few days' time, and I'll need you sober and in good health." Hanariel smiled as he handed McGowan what would have been two weeks' salary. The pair's eyes glittered in the warm glow of the well-earned gold, and gave hasty but sincere thanks to their newly appointed employer. Hanariel waved them off as he and Christoffel continued to wait in their designated area. As Roth and McGowan left in the direction of the nearest pub, the high elf snorted.

"I don't get it. How does such a virtuous man like him stand being around one of THEM? That Stingblade guy is a first class noose-bag." Roth winced, bringing a worn hand to rub his blackening arm. McGowan shook his head.

"I asked the same thing. You know that 'noose-bag' is Lord Dawnblade's brother?" McGowan spoke as Roth nearly tripped on a cobblestone.

"No, you're joking!"

"Nay, lad. Lord Dawnblade was really open about it. Explained the whole thing…" McGowan continued as he told Roth Christoffel's sad tale, at least the parts Hanariel was able to tell. Roth whistled as a small pang of guilt pricked in the center of his chest.

"Wow…that's made of fail. And after all that, he takes him back?"

"You're an only child right?"

"Yeah, so?

"So, I had four brothers. Two died to the Lich King, the other two I rarely hear from, and we were never close to begin with. But once a year, on our dad's birthday, we get together, remember how much better off we are alone, then go our separate ways. But that one day a year, we get together anyway," McGowan spoke as he looked up to his elf-friend with a slight shine of nostalgia in his old eyes. The young-seeming Roth shook his head.

"Seems like a waste of time to me, if you all hate each other. But what do I know? I never really knew my parents. Speaking of which…you hear about Jimmy?" Roth asked. McGowan shook his head with a flash of worry in his old eyes.

"That worgen that messed me up? Yeah, that was his dad."

"Stop spoutin' lies, boy."

"It's true. I visited them at one of the evacuation islands. They were both pretty shook up about it," Roth sighed, "but, when things get settled, it looks like we're going to have to find us a new wood worker. The pair of them are going to head to Nightaven soon to see his mom."

"W-Why the hell did you wait so long to tell me!" McGowan sputtered.

"Forgot." Roth shrugged as the welcome sight of the Pride Pub killed all sensitive or stressful thoughts in favor of drunken, mind-blasting revelry.

The air in the small holding area seemed to grow cold with each progressive step. Christoffel could feel scornful human eyes on him as the head assistant to Lady Proudmoore and his usual entourage guided them into the depths.

As they passed through a small, hidden door within the main prison, a chill like no other seemed to exhale onto the group. With each empty, rot-covered cell they passed in the secret space, Christoffel felt his heart begin to pound. A small, crumpled figure grew more real. The nightmarish image of damaged lives and the burden of a broken family seemed to coalesce from the hooded figure that seemed to be mumbling incoherently to itself.

"…the light of a thousand years shines in the darkest fragment of a broken mirror. The skins, the skins they call to me… no! Stop the ascent or the ruins will never know their tomorrow's glory! Shades, shades, they come for us and our ruinous follies," the dark, grey-haired figure mumbled with the occasional shudder. Christoffel's eyes halted as the guards moved to allow Hanariel passage into the cell. Though a guard blocked the rogue's path, his feet were frozen, as was the rest of him.

There, in the filthy human jail, was the rapist-sower of Christoffel's seed. The former mage, known around old Silvermoon as "Hollus Fenweaver," had unknowingly bound himself to a rare artifact, and to a terrible demon. The first demon Hollus ever summoned had been a succubus known as Anomed. Anomed was so skilled in her craft that she wielded power over all men, including her would-be masters. While in the sensual grip of the powerful succubus, he did the unthinkable, and the result was the trembling rogue.

"You." Christoffel's hazy attention snapped into focus as the word escaped his brother's lips. Christoffel heard none of his brother's usual heavenly tone. Instead, the High Mystic with seemingly endless grace stood there, trembling with rage. Christoffel watched with shock as his brother reached with his one, purposeful hand, and pulled the crouching Fenweaver to his feet.

The guards shuffled about, ready to restrain their guest, but the underpaid and magic-fearing humans found it difficult to move against the gold-glowing mystic. Lady Proudmore's aid cleared his throat.

"Please do not accost our prisoner. He has not been well…"

"He's never been 'well'…but I shall obey," Hanariel spat, releasing the elder and allowing Hollus to sink back to his knees. Christoffel watched on as Hanariel's cold gaze rested on the clouded former mage. The runes on his body flared as golden threads shot from his chest and arm, seemingly sewing into the mage as the haze that beset Hollus's mind began to clear. Hollus looked up with tainted-green eyes and marveled at the being before him.

"Y-You…why are you here? It is not time yet," Hollus stated with genuine surprise in his dry voice. The Hollus Fenweaver of reality slowly stood, frail and trembling in Christoffel's sight, as the rogue felt the ice in his muscles begin to melt.

"That is no longer in your control, defiler. Do you have any idea what you've DONE?" Hanariel shouted in a voice Christoffel had no idea the elf was capable of.

"I know well the terrible things I've done to your kin. Know that I regret it all, Hanariel…"

"I'm not speaking about that. I know your opinions of yourself in that regard. I'm talking about the HOLES you created with your wanton time-bending. Why the bronze flight hasn't done something about you is beyond me, but I shall let it go on no longer. If you are seriously repentant for ALL you've done, then you shall do as I say without question," Hanariel quickly and forcefully commanded. Christoffel shook his head. His doubts about the mystic's identity were starting to falter as the two elves continued their conversation.

"Those are strong words, young one. What makes you believe you will be able to do anything to me? Lady Proudmoore will not allow any harm to befall me, and I certainly will not stop my endeavors. Azeroth depends on them," Hollus nodded.

"Or so you think…why don't you tell HIM what you've done if you are so righteous in your actions?" Hanariel motioned to the rogue behind him, and motioned for the guards to bring Christoffel forward. Hollus' eyes went wide with shock. In all his own abilities with time and foresight, the presence of his child went unseen.

"N-Narlyn…how?" Hollus shook his head, as if the action would cause the rogue to disappear. In all his amazing forsight, the moment had come to him many times before, but Hanariel had always come alone. Hollus stumbled backwards, until his back was against the mossy-stone wall. Christoffel gave a look to the High Mystic who did not return the action. "Y-You vile snipe! How dare you involve him!"

"What is the matter Hollus? Don't want him knowing? Doesn't he deserve more than nightmares and suffering from you?" Hanariel sneered. "Do you wish to tell him or shall I?"

"I do not know what you're talking about…"

"Fine, have it your way," Hanariel turned to Christoffel, offering a steady but angry look to his fright-eyed brother.

"What the hell is going on here?" Christoffel choked back the confusion and fear as Hanariel began to tell the story despite knowing that Christoffel was privy to most of it already through the will of his father's dragon contact.

"Hollus here is tied to a demon of monumental power. If he dies, his bargain will be fulfilled and the demon will be granted access to this word. In one fleeting moment of decency, he cast several life-lengthening spells, but all the spells in the world won't keep him alive for eternity. So in his maddening state, he tapped into something greater than magic or the emerald dream.

He connected to the Ether of Time. Instead of using his abilities to simply stay alive, he spread his influence all over the Ether, changing timelines and ripping holes in the flows of fate. These holes are, in part, why the infinite dragonflight has such easy access to major events in time, and why something has slipped through to this time to awaken a long-dormant violet dragonflight. And, it seems, that our good friend here has no intention of stopping his endeavors," Hanariel glared, resisting a satisfied smile as he watched the dumb-struck Hollus tremble in denial.

"I-I've done no such thing. All I have done has been for Azeroth, I've helped keep it safe…"

"Enough of your lies, Fenweaver. Everything you have done, you have done for yourself and no one else!"

"YOU KNOW NOTHING OF WHAT I'VE DONE! What I've suffered through…and now you've come with him as leverage against me. Despicable wretch," Hollus shook with anger and fright as Christoffel's eyes turned to rest on him.

"Its true, isn't it? What he said…" Christoffel quietly spoke. All the anger seemed to be sucked from him and funneled into his golden brother. Hollus furiously shook his head.

"I have done many wicked things, Narlyn, I need not tell you this. But I cannot be stopped from my work, major shifts are about to occur that need my constant attention."

"You've caused enough harm for one long lifetime Fenweaver. And now your attention is no longer needed. My mate and I were given our abilities with the blessing of the dragonflights, and we both have the wisdom to know its limits. I shall see to it that you are made to truly give yourself for your world. And convincing Lady Proudmore to release you into my custody will not be as difficult as you think when she hears my proposal. I suggest you take this time to compose yourself and make peace with your follies." Hanariel nodded to Christoffel and left the cell. He turned to Lady Proudmoore's assistant and requested that his brother be given some time with the prisoner before being escorted to his less filthy accommodations.

Christoffel thought that his encounter would end in his loathsome father's demise at his own hands, but his body did not move to harm the decimated elder, who slowly sunk back into the haze of madness that served as his torture and comfort.

"You deserve whatever you get," Christoffel blankly spoke as he turned to leave the cell. He stopped as the sound of a shuddering sob escaped Hollus' lips.

"She's beautiful, you should know," Hollus whispered. Christoffel turned with his eyebrow raised.

"What was that?"

"She is credit to you and yours. Of all that I have done to alter the monstrous story of this ball of dirt, she was, is, and will be my finest achievement. I am proud for my part, and what that self-righteous fool does not know is that without my "foul tampering" she would have never come into being," Hollus gave a husky laugh as small tears sank below what his tattered hood could cover, "She is a more sincere apology for what I've done to you than any words I could conceive."

"I don't know what you're talking about, but stay the hell out of my life," Christoffel growled. The look Hollus cast his son made a ripple of ice coalesce in the rogue's veins.

"You will know exactly what I'm speaking of, when the time is right…"


	34. Flea 34: No Rest for the Wyrmkin

**Straydog Saga**

**Flea 34: No Rest for the Wyrm-kin  
**

* * *

Orifiel rolled up the gold-bordered scroll with stiff fingers. She placed it on the table in front of her, atop the wrinkled progress reports and scratched-out condolence letter drafts. She had repeated the motion several times, as if the words written would somehow change if her eyes left them for too long. Romulus, who sat beside her at the small table, refreshed the shaking dragon's tea. Orifiel didn't notice his hand on her shoulder until Romulus gave a gentle squeeze.

"Stop, you're going to make yourself sick," Romulus softly spoke as the trembling Ori moved a shaking hand towards the soothing liquid. The warmth of her cup slowly consumed her palm with a gentle heat.

"I-I can't believe it. I mean I wanted this but now that she finally replied…" Orifiel's voice lost its muster.

"Mother would not do it lightly. I would not delay, though. Mother's used to expedience when dealing with commoners. You wouldn't want to ruin any chance of, well, finding out. I can keep everything running while you and Seth are away," Romulus assured. Orifiel gave a small smile as she held back the teary emotions pushing their way to her face.

"Th-Thank you, for everything you've done," Orifiel sighed with a shudder. Thoughts of the red dragon's constant guidance and assistance in both the White Branch Initiative and her personal affairs colored the grey fog in her mind. Romulus shook his head and said nothing as he sat back in his chair, "I'll be leaving in the next few hours. Seth should be finishing up the task I gave him this morning. I need to go before I loose the ability."

"I won't let that happen, nor will Seth. If he is still too weak to drag you to Northrend, I'll do it myself." Romulus gave a silly smile, causing the gloomy pale one to give a much-needed laugh.

"Much appreciated. Your consorts are lucky to have such a caring male in their life."

"I try," Romulus closed his eyes and bowed his head with a charmingly smug smile. He raised his head slightly and slowly opened one wandering eye. "And if you ever get tired that curmudgeon you call a mate…"

"No, Romulus."

"I know, I know. But you cannot blame a male for trying, right?"

"I certainly can't. Besides, a red dragon prince shouldn't be, um, sampling the common pale pudding anyway," Orifiel laughed. Her own smile diminished as the serious look on Romulus' face came to her vision. She gave him a questioning look for a moment as he sighed. Despite the pale dragon's accomplishments that the dragon prince could find no words to refute, despite the well adjusted nature that constantly kept balance between the various peoples of the tree, and despite the kindness that kept Romulus' own boundless, masculine wanderlust from ruining a wonderful friendship, Orifiel seemed to have had no more self-worth in her current station than the common chamber maid.

"The sooner you get to Northrend, the better…"

* * *

Christoffel paced about the small inn-room like a caged panther. The sea air was briny on the wind, and the sound of dockworkers carefully dropping boxes was a constant grinding on his nerves. His brother had left for his meeting with the Lady Proudmoore over four hours prior, leaving only half a loaf of bread, some berry jam, and a pitcher of water for him to sate any physical hunger that the fel gem in the choker around his neck could not. Human guards stood just outside, and the fall from the small window would, at the very least, break a bone if he fell.

But feelings began to chip away at the comfortable numbness he had maintained since the events on the smoking balcony. He felt his heart seize occasionally as his chest and arms were in a constant state of tenseness.

Even the haunting, nightmarish images of his pathetic father were a welcome space-filler in his mind's eye as a smiling purple face and a sailor-mouthed voice clawed at his consciousness. His brother's assertions only served to make the feelings in his chest worse as he finally found the ability to lie down on the humble bed in the room for more than a few seconds.

Christoffel busied himself with studying the various knots and lines in the wood grain, eyes swimming along the wooden streams as a pair of glowing, honest eyes seemed to shine in the afternoon glow. Christoffel closed his eyes, but the darkness only brightened the twin pale orbs.

"…Dori," he sighed as they finally came: long, wet snakes of salty emotions slithered down his cheeks and onto the pillow beneath him. He raised his hands and pressed the bottoms of his palms on the upper parts of his cheeks as he grimaced back the sobs. He rolled over onto the pillow, buried his face into its soft depths, and let out a baleful yell that went unheard in the pillow's muffling pocket. As the crying episode continued, Christoffel felt phlegm rush into his nose, the need to breathe forcing his red face to resurface.

Christoffel did his best to steady his breathing. A small, bitter laugh came as he rested the back of his hand on his forehead. The image of Shandori that came in clear in his mind put her hands on her hips and shook her head. She mouthed the words: "Come on, demon-sucker! You're crying like a little bitch." Which brought another, more comforting feeling into his otherwise flayed heart. She seemed too alive in his mind, as if no ghost could hope to match the vivid image. His brother's words, the thought she may still be alive, and not knowing threatened to pull him back into another wave of unbound sorrow. But that face, that smug smile held his attention and brought his mind far from the pain of that terrible night.

A few moments after the last of his tears dried he heard the door click. Christoffel sat up to see a golden glow followed by his brother entering the room. Han looked to him with a twinge of knowing sadness, which made Christoffel look away.

"How are you feeling?" Han asked as he walked towards the small bed. As he sat, Christoffel moved to sit up beside him, shoulders still tense but body making no motion to escape his brother's side.

"Bad."

"Understandable," Hanariel nodded, his frame hunching as it did only a few months prior. A small smile came to his face as he found he lost the courage to look his younger brother in the eye. He did his best to straighten his posture to that of the High Mystic he had become and turned to face his brother. "We'll be leaving tomorrow, and we'll be taking your father with us."

"…s'that so? Convinced them, did you?" Christoffel snorted. Han nodded, placing his hand in his lap and looking to the eye pattern as he turned his hand over to look at his light-bathed palm.

"It was not easy. I could not give specifics, which did hurt my cause, but unlike Hollus, my duty is to preserve the timeline not use it for my own gain. Still, Lady Proudmoore is wise, and she did understand in the end. You should know, once we get him to the tree…"

"I said it once, and I'll say it again: I don't give a shit what happens to that asshole."

"Its not about you," Han curtly spoke. Christoffel felt his throat clinch as his brother's golden gaze shot up to capture his own green orbs. Han visibly struggled to keep his emotions in check as he stared his brother down.

"When I woke up after my injury," Han motioned to the space where his right arm would have been, "They told me I couldn't see my brothers or father. The medics said you were busy, you were safe, they would always say that when I asked. It wasn't until they were sure that I was stable that they told me you were missing, and the rest of my family was already in the ground. I never got to say goodbye to my father; OUR father. It is a part of my life I will never be able to relive, despite my new gifts. You have a chance to make peace with the man that gave you life. If you will not do it for yourself, do it for those who couldn't," Han quietly but forcefully spoke. There was a tense silence between them before Christoffel finally broke the thickness between them.

"I-I don't know if I can. He's done so much shit; ruined my life; yours too. Why do you care about his peace?"

"I don't. In fact, I'll take great pleasure in doing what must be done to that unbelievable bast-," Han posed and cleared his throat of the rest of the uncouth word, "villain when the time finally comes. But I DO care about you. You don't deserve this burden. I am blessed to have you back, even with fel eyes, black hair, or otherwise. I just wish you'd see REASON for once."

"You couldn't make me see it when I was 6. What makes you think you're going to do it now?" Christoffel smiled. Han gave a warm, relief-filled smile at the first concrete acknowledgement of familial bond from his distrusting brother. Han gave a wide smile and nodded as the air around them began to cool as wounds long open slowly began to close.

* * *

Shandori walked along the crumpled halls of Mydrassil's trunk with a repressed, smug smile. Her dragon companions, Lumi and Kat, walked just a few steps ahead to stop any mortal seeing justice, or a hefty bounty. As a child of the red flight, Kat was bound to carry out the instructions written by her mother's mortal-draped hand on the paper in Shandori's. In exchange for amnesty, a small stipend, and taunting rights, Shandori pledged her services to the White Branch Initiative and the Red Flight. But the paper would be rendered void outside of Mydrassil, and if she did not carry out the will of her new benefactors.

"Things are coming along nicely. The energy here is pure. Your mate's forces are impressive, Kat!" Lumi commented as she pressed a plump leaf between her index finger and thumb.

"He's not my mate," Kat flatly spoke, causing a small, uncomfortable blush to spread across the blue dragon's human-appearing face.

"Well, I'm glad things aren't broken too bad," Shandori spoke as twin glares stabbed her voice with a quieting wound, "heh…heheheh…I'll shut up now."

"You have the luck of the gods, Shandori, that's all I'll say," Kat snorted as she turned her vision back to the path before her.

"Well, as loathed as I am to admit it, your shield strike WAS pretty, 'awesome' as you mortals say," Lumi admitted with a stuffy expression. Shandori's smile finally escaped.

"Liked that did you? If you let me ride you again-"

"Not a chance! Such a thing is undignified for a dragon of my breeding. Besides, when you talk about it in that manner, it sounds scandalous," Lumi huffed. Typically Shandori would have a snide comment for such snobbery but, coming out of the mouth of a dragon, it seemed to appropriate the thought.

"Alright, alright," Shandori laughed as she felt a phantom arrow pierce her back. Her eyes went wide for a moment as a familiar, dreadful perfume filled her nose. Her whole body froze as the first voice she ever learned hissed her name like a venom-mouthed snake. The two mortal-bodied dragons paused and turned to face the frozen night elf with questioning looks.

Standing behind the warrior was a night elf priestess and her acolytes. The older, scowling woman resembled an older version of the brash Shandori, but the grace of Elune and the elegance of her station overcame any familial resemblance and stopped the fury that brightly burned behind her pale eyes.

"How DARE you?" Iona Sagesmoke angrily whispered as Shandori turned to look into her mother's hate-filled eyes. "After all you've done how DARE you show your face here?"

Shandori didn't answer. All of the gall, vinegar and energy she had were drained into the landscape. Shandori lowered her gaze like a defeated child as her mother quickly walked to her, tears visible, and brought a hand to her face. Shandori did not react other than to place a hand on the stinging spot where her mother's palm struck. Kat immediately came between the fuming priestess and her estranged daughter, allowing no further physical injury. But not even a magic-wielding dragon could silence Iona's vicious verbal blows as they freely flew from angry lips.

"Do you know what has happened? Do you know what you and your filthy friends nearly did? Your sister and her child nearly DIED because of you! And now you walk about this place like you don't have a care in the world?" Iona erupted. Her heavenly acolytes were taken aback by the wave of hurt and rage, trying to fight her way through, who she thought, was another willowy high elf woman.

"The stress YOU put her though caused the child to come early, TOO early! I was there, I know! The child nearly died if not for my prayers and Falina's training. You vile, wrenched baby murderer!" Iona raged. Kat scowled, shoving the priestess back and giving her a warning look with magical, draconic eyes.

"Ma'am, calm down. You have attacked a ward of the dragonqueen and, as such, I have the right to bring you into custody if you continue. You must stop," Kat gently but firmly spoke.

"Wh-what?" Iona was dumbstruck. Kat went on to explain what had happened, putting a heroic and redemptive spin on Shandori's sorded story. Distrust and disbelief filled her angry eyes as they darted about her daughter's form. Shandori buried her mind deep within herself, unable to hear the belittling and degrading voice. Even the dragons, who did their best to defend her from further verbal abuse, barely registered.

Her mind desperately clung to the one comforting thing in her life ,and the darkness within, the cinching vice around her, began to abate. A small smile came to her otherwise blank expression as she felt a warm grip on her shoulder. Shandori's mind snapped back into reality as an exited word broke from her mouth before she could stop it.

"Chris?" she gasped and turned to find the originator of the warm hand looking to her with teary, red-orange eyes. "I-Ima…"

"Miss Dori, you're OK!" Ima leaped to the night elf and gave her a relief-filled -but sob-laden- hug. The kind-hearted troll, who had run ahead of her goblin companion, ignored the scene before her, and provided the distraction necessary to erase Iona's presence. While Kat lead the disgusted priestess away, Shandori gratefully returned the warm gesture.

"W-We didn't know what happened to ya, kiddo. I'm so glad you're in one piece," F-bomb smiled. Lumi raised a brow and looked to the three with slight confusion, as the warmth of the scene could not be ignored.

"I-I'm alright. Where's Chris…tell me he isn't…" Shandori's eyes, usual walls erased by her mother's presence, darted with desperation between the two. Her lack of comment on their welfare only served to cause amused smiles to spread on both F-bomb and Ima's faces.

"He's alive, Miss Dori, but he's with the High Mystic right now. They should be coming back to the tree soon, I think," Ima informed.

"Y-You're sure? How do you know?" Shandori asked. Ima explained her connection to the tree's operations chief, which brought a look of surprise and genuine awe on Shandori's face.

"Wow, so…did he offer you work or a position here or something?"

"N-No. But he is going to help me restore my gnome form in a more permanent way; at least, keep it up while I'm still going to school; you know, once everything dies down and gets settled again. And I won't even need to get any seeds from Herbert: they can all be donated," Ima smiled.

"So…we didn't need to go to Ashenvale at all? Wonderful…"

"Well, Miss Dori, had we not gone to Ashenvale, you wouldn't have ended up in jail, and we wouldn't have met F-bomb, Miss Maiev, or Mr. Daggerfang…speaking of which, I wonder what happened to him?" Ima mused. She was completely unaware of the worgen's discovery and the healing family re-forming in Moonglade.

"Haven't seen him either…" F-bomb shrugged.

"That's true. And we may not have hooked up with Meryld again. Where is she? Stuck in a beer hall somewhere?" Shandori chuckled at the thought, but the sad expressions on the pair's faces wiped the smile from her own. Her brow furrowed with worry as the pair hesitated to answer. "Where's Meryld?"

"Sh-She didn't make it. Smoke and strain was too much for the old girl. Went down fighting though according to Maiev," F-bomb informed with wet, shining eyes. Shandori felt a wall of thick air strike her as her heart sunk. She slowly shook her head as memories of the vivacious and unusually spry senior attempted to render the statements false.

"But…but she was a shit-kicker; a warrior like me. I mean how could she be?"

"Mortals die. The mortal spirit often makes your kind seem far stronger than your frail bodies actually are," Lumi said in the softest, humblest tone she was capable of. Though the harsh tone caused Ima and F-bomb to cast the dragon a disapproving look, Shandori slowly nodded.

"You're right, Lumi. Shit dies all the time," Shandori sighed. The four females continued through the trunk in mutual silence, the company and energy of actualized friendship providing more comfort and support than any cruel force could break.

* * *

"You called, sir?" Keesha drawled as she walked past a pulsing bundle of tangled roots. Small patches of red-violet scales grazed her golden vision, but she quickly turned her attention to the night elf-bodied, black dragon who requested her presence. His breathing seemed slightly heavy, but the hunch in his back and the amount of bandages on his mortal form seemed diminished.

"Yes, I require your expertise. When the forces of the factions arrive, we will not have the opportunity to do what must be done, and I'm not well enough yet to expend the concentration necessary. You will need to learn how to do this on your own anyway. It may prove highly useful in the future," Seth huskily spoke. Keesha turned to look at the root-trapped dragon and gave a slight snort.

"If you say so. What are we going to do with her?"

"With a bit of work, garner some much needed information," Seth slowly moved to crack his stiff neck, "Please remove some of the roots about her face."

"Are you sure that's a good idea?"

"You have trusted me with much; trust me now," Seth requested. Keesha slowly nodded and with a wave of her rune-bathed hands, the roots the stabbed and squirmed, within Pashima's maw receded. Keesha resisted the urge to cover her ears at the agonized roar that bellowed through the prison layer of the Tangled Canal.

"PUT THEM BAAACK!" Pashima desperately commanded as the pain and loss from within poured into the glowing eyes. Keesha looked to the scowling Seth who motioned to one of the loose roots. Keesha summoned it to her and allowed the wooden torturer into her own flesh. At once, a flood of images washed over her mind's eye. Keesha could see a sky choked with happy, healthy red dragons. Though their world was war-torn and demon-damaged, the happy brood darted about the sky in their innocent play.

Keesha could see one among them, a small female, chose to fly beside her regal-looking mother. Though the red female was by no means a dragon queen, the small dragon-child clung to her mother's side as a mother's love draped over her like a cradling cloud. The tiny red dragonling, known to her brothers and sisters as Pashistrasza gleefully chirped as one of her brothers flew in close to land a tickling blow on her tail. Keesha snapped back to reality as the root moved from her grip and back to its place around the prisoner.

"Did you see it?" Seth asked with a dark smile.

"I did…what was all that? Was it real?"

"You tell me."

"It felt like the past, but not. Even being in the Ether, I couldn't really tell. But YOU know, don't you?" Keesha raised a brow at the self-satisfied look on the elder's face.

"What you saw, what this young fool is experiencing, is a past that does exist within the Ether of Time, but never happened. It is the product of desire, time-line tampering, and the general flux of fate, or so my mate has explained. I will always be limited by my draconic nature, but this is your greatest weapon, Keesha. The roots are yours, and you may use them against your enemies this way. Now, be alert. I may need you to reapply them at any moment," Seth nodded as he took several steps towards the violet dragon.

"Um, isn't that called 'torture?' and your woman's fine with it?" Keesha asked with a look of surprise on her usually controlled face.

"She suggested it," Seth spoke with a loving smirk at the thought of one of his mate's little-known acts of vicious, cunning.

"Damn…I always knew I liked her for some reason…" Keesha mused as she began walking towards the half-crazed dragon.

"Filth! Stay away form me!" Pashima hissed at the human, doing her best not to slip into desperate madness as the divine roots that brought her to a euphoric existence remained out of reach.

"You're in no position to address her in such a way, child. If you cooperate, I have it in my power to return you to your dreams permanently. Just tell me what I want to know and eternal joy shall be yours. If you do not cooperate…" Seth's gaze grew fierce, but the terror-gaze that inspired his mortal surname did not come. Instead, the sand and gravel that comprised the mound Pashima was rooted to grew scalding-hot. Pashima squirmed as steam began to emanate from her underbelly. When her underbelly began to blister and screams of pain could no longer be held back, Seth returned the terribly hot soil to its normal temperature.

"Y-You horrible…"

"Choose your next words carefully, whelp," Seth paused, quelling the rising annoyance from within and returning his tone to one of control and calm, "Who is your master? How did the Twilight flight recover from obliteration?"

"I-I'll tell you nothing!"

"Is that a fact?" Seth raised a brow as Pashima felt warmth begin to form beneath her injured belly.

"T-They will come for me. They will! And when they do, they will not have been betrayed!" Pashima desperately winced as the dull heat began to irritate her blistered wounds. Seth let out a booming laugh, mouth opening far wider than his night elf jaw should have allowed.

"You expect to be rescued? Are you naïve or stupid, girl? There is no hope for you outside of those roots. You forget, you are born of my old flight: I know them far better than you, young one. I can promise you, you better hope they do not find you at all, or you shall suffer far greater at their claws than mine."

"Wh-what are you speaking of, traitor? It's a t-trick! You're trying to confuse me, you are!" Pashima let out a struggling yelp as the heat beneath her underbelly began to slowly intensify. Seth shook his head.

"The corrupted black flight and their monstrosities take no prisoners and place no value on your life, or any other for that matter. Tell me, how many of your own kin have you moved to rescue? Can't think of any can you? You best hurry and give me the information I seek and I shall personally see to it you spend the rest of your days in paradise," Seth assured.

Keesha watched as the expressions on the young violet dragon's face began to shift from anger and haughty outrage to childish fear. Seth simply stood there and patiently waited with a small smile.

"I saw what you did, you know. Those people, dragons you call your brothers and sisters? Yeah ,they TOOK that from you. I could see how happy you would have been. So why don't you just give it up and tell us what we want to know. Who knows, maybe you'll get to meet her. She might still be alive," Keesha offered. Pashima's squinting eyes darted to Keesha with a disgust-filled hiss.

"You will not address me in such a way, inseeeAAAAUUGGGH!" Pashima screeched as the ground beneath her grew red-hot. A snarling-faced Setharion could not feel the strain or sweat forming in running drops along the sides of his forehead. Keesha shook her head and grabbed Seth's arm, breaking his concentration. It was then the wave of exhaustion hit the still recovering dragon. Keesha stood at his side and steadied him as the sizzling smell of scorched flesh assaulted the High Mystic.

"You're running very low on carrot, girl. If you don't speak up I'll be more than happy to give you the stick. Last chance: who's behind all this?" Keesha calmly asked as small whimpers of pain escaped the violet female's trembling eyes.

"They-they will kill me!" Pashima gasped in pain.

"We won't LET them kill you. Just give us a name and I'll return the roots to your mind," Keesha sighed, as she willed some of the roots along Pashima's neck to soothingly stroke the injured young female. Injured, tired, and filled with longing, Pashima moved to whisper a single name. Keesha felt the dragon at her side stiffen.

"You're a terrible liar. That creature is dead," Seth bitterly laughed, terrible gaze searching for the lie in the violet dragon's eyes as a truthful shaking of her head sent his smile curving downward.

"H-He lives. He came to us from secret place. We were hiding, and he found us, brought us from ob-obscurity and into power again. He will devour you as he would all things!" Pashima shrieked as her head struck the ground with a dirty smack. Keesha's eyes went wide but the bundle of roots still rose and fell as the exhausted dragon fell into a trembling sleep. Seth motioned to the loose roots as Keesha returned them to their place in Pashima's aching mind.

"What do you think?" Keesha asked as her perceptive eyes scanned every wrinkled line on the dragon's face. Setharion gave a rare shudder.

"I cannot tell if she's lying or not…but if she's telling the truth, Titans help us all…"


	35. Flea 35: Bronze Mettle

**Straydog Saga**

Flea 35: Bronze Mettle

* * *

The current pushed against the Theramore vessel with lackadaisical, lopping waves. While McGowan and Roth graced the wind with their presence, Hanariel agreed to Lady Proudmore's request for the prisoner who did not officially exist to be transported to Mydrassil by her ships. The vessels, a small fleet of five small ships, would also be employed in the repair effort and would serve as a portion of the Alliance's aid, as requested in a letter from Prince Wrynn a few days prior to the High Mystic's Arrival.

Christoffel leaned on the wall of the cabin, arms crossed and eyes looking to the endless sky with no particular focus. The occasional comment from the human crew would tether him back to reality, but the line would go slack again. He gave a quick sigh and stood straight before walking below deck. He descended into the cargo area where brigands and supplies were held.

There, in one of the cells, was his father. Though pillows, blankets, and other finery were placed well within his reach, Hollus sat silent on the cold metal floor. Christoffel took a hesitant step forward, then another until he stood close enough to the meditating man for his shadow to drape over his shivering form. Hollus took a few moments before lifting his vision to see a frowning face just beyond his bars.

"H-How long have you been standing there?"

"Not long," Christoffel sighed and knelt to sit. They were like two sides of a mirror, obscured only by the rusty metal bars. Guilt, shame, and the weight of broken dreams seemed to press on both their shoulders as the father cast a questioning look to his son.

"I s-see," Hollus coughed. He seemed particularly frail in Christoffel's sharpened vision as the rogue did his best not to look away. "I foresaw this moment, and yet…I find myself ill prepared."

"Oh, so you know what I'm about to say?"

"Y-Yes."

"Well that makes one of us," Christoffel sighed, crossed his arms behind his head, and leaned up to look at the ceiling. Hollus chuckled and shook his head.

"You know what you want to say; the words simply haven't come yet," Hollus assured as he pulled his hood back to fully reveal his marred features. Christoffel looked to the face that would surely be his own someday, and an unnerved shine came to his vision. Christoffel coughed for a moment before speaking.

"I guess…I want to hate you but you take all the fun out of it."

"Oh? Ever the kill-joy, am I?"

"Well, it's hard to call someone an asshole life-wrecker when they agree with you."

"I suppose that's true. Although, I surmise, if you truly had malice in your being for me, I would not be breathing right now. Larion instilled too much honor in you, and although I would suffer onto him a thousand hells for what he did later in his life, I must be grateful to him for raising you so well, despite his…abuses in the process," Hollus sighed and shifted in his cell.

"You know, growing up, I thought it was something I did wrong. Nothing I ever did was good enough; I thought if I just tried harder…I never thought for a moment it was because of this."

"You did not deserve his ire. But I was not around, and you were. The magic used to alter your appearance was costly; and even then, no amount of tampering would erase the events from his mind. I-I have tried with all my might to make you see that it was not your fault. I know Hanariel has done his best to guilt you into forgiving me, but that is not what I want, nor is it what I deserve. If you wish to make peace with me, find it within yourself and I will die fulfilled," Hollus spoke with a shaking voice. There was silence between them before Christoffel's frown deepened.

"What will they do to you?"

"Only what must be done to preserve the timeline and prevent my demon master from coming into this world, should my blood be spilled."

"S-So they're not going to kill you then?"

"Oh no, the Hollus as you see here will no longer be. I will be neither alive nor dead. But once the process is done, we will have no further contact."

"I-I don't get it."

"You don't need to," Hollus smiled and moved to procure something from one of his robe's pockets. From his robes, he pulled out three, finely written letters with wax seals bearing the Fenweaver family crest. He held them through the bars, beckoning his only son to take them. Christoffel slowly but steadily complied as he eyed the notes with a curious glint in his eyes.

"What are these?"

"Open them on the dates written on the back of each. That is all I'm able to say. Hopefully you'll find them useful," Hollus said. Christoffel tucked the notes in the pouch at his side as he turned to look as his father with a gentle nod.

"Maybe," Christoffel shrugged. He gave his father one last look before standing again and turning towards the door. The dust of forgotten memories stirred as Christoffel walked towards the door without a word. As the rogue gently opened the door, a small breeze wafted in from above. Hollus watched on with a small smile when the air between them finally cleared as Christoffel made his exit.

* * *

"Lady Hazzad, may I have a word?" Romulus cleared his throat as the High Mystic of the Root gave him her full, but irritated, attention. She was in the middle of weaving freshly- grown roots into the wall system when the red dragon in human form wrecked her concentration.

"Yes?"

"Upon Lady Whitedeer's request, along with Prince Wrynn's assistance, Thrall has sent word to the Warchief seeing additional resources, for the rebuilding efforts a few days ago. The Horde has agreed to our request to send additional aid to the tree and they will be here in a matter of days. I am concerned that your….not-so-subtle prejudice might sour that agreement." Romulus spoke as delicately as his draconic sensibilities would allow. Keesha snorted.

"According to Foggybottom, the Warchief would be against helping 'Alliance dogs,' or whatever those freaks call us. How'd Thrall manage to get him to send help?" Keesha asked with disbelief apparent in her voice.

"Let's just say Thrall's word holds a bit more weight with him than even his own rash judgment. But will you allow them into the tree, is my question?"

"I let those shamans stay didn't I? Look, if the Horde wants to actually help get this place back in shape, let them come. But one tusk out of line, and I'm zapping their asses, you understandin' me?"

"Of course," Romulus nodded, "Hopefully Thrall's presence will spur some temperance on their part. But I know the Alliance will be sending their aid as well. We will need to be very careful in how we conduct ourselves…" Romulus sighed, bringing a hand to his chin in thought.

"Well, I've been thinking on that for a little while now. I know there are plenty of people here who don't seem to care about faction lines. They've already started organizing things on their own on an informal basis. Maybe we should recruit them to try and keep the peace? Might boost morale," Keesha shrugged as Romulus's worried features slowly grew sunny with realization.

"Keesha, that's brilliant!"

"I know," Keesha smirked, "Besides, I know Lady Whitedeer mentioned some people have real place to go home to. Maybe if we make this place less of an overgrown weed and more than a construction project, it will lift a few spirits at the very least, and at most, provide us a bit of organization when it comes to fixing up the place. When you dragons leave, and I know you all will at some point, we mortals are going to have to fend for ourselves anyway. Who knows, if we grow this tree large enough, we many even be able to make a few proper towns and cities pop up. Those night elves won't have anything on our awesome tree," Keesha nodded as she began walking to the upper portals.

"Should I call for a temporary stand down and congregate the workers?" Romulus asked, following the High Mystic of the Root towards the upper part of the tree. Keesha gave a quick nod before responding.

"You said we have only a few days before people start showing up? We got work to do," Keesha affirmed as the pair quickly sprang into action. Those who returned to the tree and toiled to repair their broken businesses and homes were summoned to the upper bough, where Orifiel had gathered the White Branch Initiative during the Twilight's Hammer attack. Upon the High Mystic's urgent request, Thrall and his shaman companions joined the pair at the tall balcony overlooking the thinned crowd.

Malfurion lingered in the crowd, for the first time in many thousands of years, as one of the rabble. Though he did not stand with the High Mystic as she prepared her proposal, his smiling presence served the crowd far better; many felt peaceful within his boundlessly wise aura.

Shandori, bound by her agreement and compelled by her draconic overseers, stood among them with Ima, Maiev, and F-bomb within eye-shot. Though Kat traveled with Orifiel and Seth to the Wyrmrest temple, Shandori made no attempt to renege on her agreement while Lumi's arcane gaze was so close.

Keesha placed her fingers to her lips, producing a ringing whistle that echoed through the branches and caused a hush to come to the gathered workers and other summoned individuals. Romulus cast a small amplification spell on Keesha's voice as she began to speak to the gathered mass.

"Alright, listen up people. I know you've all been through a lot, and the fact that you're still here goes to show you have guts. Not all of you may know me, but I'm in charge of this place for now, along with my partner in crime, Hanariel, as your head of operations can confirm. We're all working hard to get things back in shape, but we're going to be getting help from both the Alliance and the Horde," Keesha paused to let the statement sink in within the distress-filled mumbled of the crowd before continuing.

"The last thing anyone wants is another brawl, and that's why I summoned you all here. We're going to need to keep these folks in line, because they are guests in YOUR house. So I'm asking you all, on a volunteer basis, to help out as peacekeepers. You'll be in charge of making sure those 'alliance dogs' and 'horde freaks' tow the mark!" Keesha smiled as the rumbling sound of amused chuckling came from the crowd and to her ears.

Though she could see a few annoyed looks coming from those with faction loyalties, the number of smiling faces pledging their time and effort to securing the tree far dwarfed them.

"If you'll all form a line at the front entrance to this building, myself and our Earthen Ring volunteers will take down your information. Once we have organized the effort more fully, we will tell you your assignments," Romulus motioned to the entrance to the central building just below where the group stood. There stood a conjured, large table with boxes of paper and writing implements. The group smiled as a river formed within the great pool of people, stopping just before the sign-up table.

Thelma and Jango scrambled to the bottom floor, where the volunteers waited, and began their long task of name, trade, and address recording.

"The rest of you, do your best and get your work done," Keesha gave a respectful nod to the crowd as they began to disburse and return to their business. Keesha turned to see an approving smile on Romulus' face and a beaming Violetina rushing to her side.

"Lady Hazzad, can I make pretty tabard for effort? Oh, and maybe make nice armor for peace-keeper? And make reward to ones who help from alliance and horde too, yes? We have make everyting here, workers could use business!" Violetina excitedly asked, gasping between cheery ideas. Keesha nervously smiled and felt compelled to nod.

"I-If you want, I'll put you in charge of all that, if your leader says it's ok," Keesha stated, casting a call for help to Thrall with glowing golden eyes. Thrall chuckled and nodded.

"Anything we can do to help," Thrall amusedly sighed.

"Yay! Wat we call effort? Team need name!" Violet mused, "Maybe 'Tree of Light', or 'Keepers of Light?'"

"Nah, too…holy sounding for me. How about…hmm. Should be something Han would be able to live with, it's his tree to lead too." Keesha thought, doing her best despite never having a need to come up with such things in the past.

"There are many named factions in this world: the night elves have their Sentinels, Goblins have their Bruisers, Orgrimar their grunts and so on. It should be something that embodies what your workers are to do. You call them peace-keepers, perhaps you can start there. And then again, perhaps you don't need to name them at all," Thrall offered. Violetina vigorously shook her head in defiance of the much respected former Warchief, but he made no indication of insult.

"No, the team need good name! Tink, tink, tink…OH! How about "Mystic Tree Shepherds?"

"..or perhaps just 'The Shepherds,'" Thrall added.

"Hmmm…I like that actually, 'The Shepherds.' Let's go with it," Keesha chuckled at the dual implication. Though the mused that Han would love the concept as a former priest, the people-sheep concept delightfully ran through her dark mind. Violet dashed off in the direction of one of the repaired and operational tailoring shops to design a very attractive tabard that formed in her energetic mind.

* * *

Orifiel felt the joints in her mate's hand crack. He winced, but made no motion to remove himself from her tense grip. The couple and their volunteer red dragon escort Kat, who placed the duty of looking after Shandori to the ever-eager Lumi, traveled to Northrend on the wind; but no one in the temple was privy to the pale one's true form. Seth and Ori walked into the giant structure as mortals to the gawking looks and whispers within.

"I will fly ahead and let them know you're here. Please wait at the inn, and I'll come fetch you. Terronian may be there." The dragon-formed Kat gave a small bow as she took off for the top of the temple. The pair left behind did as they were told, and made their way to the small structure that resembled a mortal inn.

There were a few non-dragons there, dressed in the tabards of the temple and plotting their next heroic move to garner a better reputation with their dragon allies. Among them, sitting at a small table with a large glass of wine, was their human-bodied son.

"I didn't know you drank wine, Nugget."

"Mother? Father, you came too," Trenton smiled with a rosy blush on his face. He lifted his glass and grandly motioned for them to sit. The sight of the mellow child brought a much-needed smile to Orifiel's face, but did little to settle her stomach.

"Terronian, I see you're well," Seth spoke with an amused snort.

"Of coursh! Hmm, of course," Trenton coughed, "Sho whadda you think?"

"I think I'm going to be sick."

"EAT something." Seth insisted, motioning to one of the servants at the bar, who quickly pulled a few menus from a small bin. She brought them over, earning a half-toasted smile from Terronian, before shuffling back to her post.

"I'm not hungry…maybe a little something to drink will calm me down though…" Orifiel sighed and took one of the menus to her sight.

"Might I suggesht da Nigh'lf flower wine? Ish vurry gud," Terronian smiled with a wave of his glass.

"Perhaps you've had a bit too much. Will you be sober enough to join us in the aspect's presence?" Seth shook his head, guiding his son's shaking hand to place the wobbling goblet on the table. Despite his obvious disdain for the red flight and its monarch, Seth moved with unusual care and restraint among the red-scaled leviathans.

"I'll be fine, HIC! Fine, fine," Terronian chuckled. His antics brought a smile to his mother's face.

"Lightweight."

"YUR A LIGH WAIT!" Terronian spoke just a touch too loudly, causing a few other patrons to look in their direction and shake their heads. Orifiel shushed her playfully numb son as the servant came back and took their order or two small goblets of aforementioned wine.

Orifiel and her mate barely had time to take more than a sip of their beverages before Kat returned to escort them to the top of the temple. Orifiel downed the drink, leaving a few gold pieces behind as she, Kat, Seth, and a wobbly Terronian made their way to the dragon queen's high throne. The wind seemed to have picked up since their arrival, but their wings were steady, save for Terronian who wafted in circles until Kat flew beside to steady him, and all four dragons made it safely to the top of the Wyrmrest Temple.

Alexstrasza looked as beautiful and graceful as ever despite the small hint of dread behind her glowing, golden gaze. She gave a thankful nod to Kat, who bowed low.

"Welcome, it has been a long time since I've seen you, Orifiel. And it is always a pleasure, Setharion," Alex gave a small, momentary chuckle as Seth gave a restrained nod of recognition, but little else in the manner of genuine reverence for the aspect. "Does the youngling need a chair?"

"Err-no, no your highness he's…fine," Orifiel sighed and gave a sharp look to Terronian who did his best to straighten up and stay standing through the warm fog of wine in his veins. Alex gave a gentle, commanding glance to Kat who quickly procured something for the young dragon to sit upon.

"Alright then, let us proceed," Alex nodded with a sigh, and took a step forward. Orifiel could not find air as the aspect approached. The dragon folded her delicate but firm hands in front of her, and looked to the floor as she approached, stopping just before the pale dragon. She gave a deep, shaking sigh before looking the pale dragon in the eye and allowing the anxious words to escape her crimson-painted lips.

"I know you have worked very hard to obtain this information, done everything in your power to fulfill your end of the agreement, and you have leapt above and beyond my expectations, and the expectations of this court. The gem has been cut, and resides within the rebuilt Dragon-Flights Sanctum, where it honors the fallen and brings glory to all those who still struggle to find themselves." Alex paused, as her whole form seemed to shutter. "But despite all that you have done, I am…unable to pay what is owed to you."

"What?" Seth interrupted as he felt his heart drop. A look of anticipation quickly morphed into a snarling visage filled with malice and resentment.

"B-But if I did as you and the dragon council asked! Why won't you tell me?" Orifiel asked with all strength stolen from her words.

"I am very sorry…those who would be your dragonflight do not wish you to know, nor would they welcome you. I know you have come all this way to be disappointed, but an in-person meeting was the very least I could give you. And the most is, if your scales were drained of their red hue, I would most certainly welcome you in my clutch," Alexstrasza did her best to assure.

The outrage, disappointment, and sorrow flowing in the wintry air were nearly enough to knock the wind out of Kat, who watched the proceedings with a mixture of disappointment and defeat in her eyes. There was a silence for a moment, before the loud cracking of stone against an angry dragon's fist echoed through the scene. Kat leapt to her queen's side as an angry, burning gaze rose to meet the dragon queen.

"You are an ASPECT, the QUEEN of the dragons, you useless—"

"Seth!"

"Do not defend her! You DO know, don't you? But you honestly expect us to believe you cannot say? You can't spare one kindness after all she's done for this endeavor of yours? ANSWER ME!"

"T-The dragon queen does not answer to you, N-Nightgaze." Kat bravely stood in front of her queen with a trembling voice and quaking knees in the presence of the raging black dragon.

"Stay out of this," Seth snarled as he quickly bridged the small distance to where the two red dragons stood, shoved the younger to the floor, and came within a hot-breath of the dragon queen before lingering menacingly there, aura hot and temper barely in check. Alexstrasza did not so much as twitch at the motion. Her look of sadness and guilt melted into a slightly annoyed visage.

"Choose your next actions carefully, Setharion. While I will not act in consideration for your mate, I will have you restrained if necessary," Alex calmly spoke. Seth did not make any motion to maim the dragon queen but did not take a step in retreat.

"You think your children have the strength to bring me down? They've grown fat and weak in their respite. And are you forgetting what still remains in our possession? You would still deny her the information she deserves?"

"Do you truly feel you can use that as leverage? At this point, the shrine is a greater ease of burden on your spirit than mine," Alex gently reminded, trying to choose words of diffusion rather than ignition. Seth's eyes faltered for only a moment before regaining their white-hot rage.

"Enough. It's not up to her, Seth. They don't want me," Orifiel shrugged with darkened eyes. The soft voice cooled the heated aura and brought Setharion back from the brink of doing something rash. He turned to see his crestfallen love and could not find the strength to be angry.

"Don't say that," Seth soothed as he quickly walked to face her, firmly stroking her shoulders with his clawed but gentle grip, "she knows and simply won't tell."

"No, she did give me something. I'm not a red dragon. That's something right?" Orifiel weakly asked as small tears began to form behind her usually calm eyes.

"Its far less than you are owed, do not let her get away with robbing you like this!" Seth shook his head as Orifiel looked away.

"Let's just…go, alright?" Orifiel's voice gave out as the first of many tears began to find their way down her cheek.

"Ori you can't! She knows!" Seth felt the female in his grasp shudder as she pulled herself free. In a burst of light, the night elf swelled and contorted until a great white dragon stood in her place. With a few wing beats the crying dragon was aloft and flew on the north wind, mate shouting desperately at her back. Seth was about to follow when he felt a familiar hand on his shoulder.

"Don't," a red-faced Terronian shook his head. Seth felt the fluid in his gut slosh as his stomach knotted. He turned and pointed an angry finger at the dragon queen.

"If anything happens to her, I will make it my life's mission to end you!" Seth snarled and transformed into his true form, much to Terronian's tipsy dismay. Alexstrasza felt a small shiver run through her, at the elder dragon's resemblance to his once divinely-guided aspect of a father.

The image of the earth-warder Neltharion took off after his mate to an unknown destination. Alexstrasza let out the breath she had unknowingly been holding during the meeting and sank to her knees.

"Well…that could have gone no worse," she sighed, feeling a slight humming pain in her temple. She looked up to find Terronian's steady hand offered and wordlessly accepted his grip.

"Nah, things can always be worsh. He could have taken a bite outta you. I'd be sad," Terronian offered, cutting through the horrible tension, "But he is PISHED off. Thanksh a lot, lady."

"Terronian, please know if I were able, I would give your mother all that I know. But, while I am the dragon queen, I am not the only aspect. I must respect the sovereignty of the other flights, especially when they are well within their rights under our laws. I can only hope that, in time, she will know, and so you will too."


	36. Flea 36: A Horse with No Name

_**AUTHOR NOTE:**_ On September 20th, 2011, 'Straydog Saga' turned 1 year old! Can you believe a year has gone by already? I certainly can't. I would like to take this time to announce that, once this story is done, I will go back and edit out all the typos and errors and I will be sending it to Blizzard as a fan tribute to Warcraft. Why bother telling you this? Because I'd like to have an illustration at the start of each chapter for the submission. This is where you all come in. Did you have a favorite scene in the story? A favorite character? You could have your artwork featured in the Straydog Saga final document (with credit to the artist of course :) )! Just send me a private message if interested and I'll give you all further instructions.

Enjoy this extra long update :)

- Ori

* * *

**Straydog Saga**

Flea 36: A Horse with No Name

* * *

In a matter of minutes, the first of Lady Proudmore's ships would reach the magic-lit roots of Mydrassil, and Christoffel felt nothing but knots in his stomach in the midnight air. The strange letters from his father seemed to burn a hole in his side as their secretive contents licked at his mind. The first of the letters was dated a week in the future. The next letter was dated, 10 months and the next 15 years. Christoffel sloshed the thoughts of consequences in his mind like a dry wine.

As his finger lingered over the seal of the first letter, the waxy texture seemed like a beacon in the flickering candlelight.

"It's only a week…" Christoffel reasoned, his finger slowly cracking the side of the letter open. He felt a chill surround him, but his hand did not stop its action. In a breath, the letter was open and exposed in his sight. He felt himself exhale as his beating heart thundered within. His brow furrowed as he scanned the words on the page.

"_Dear son,_

_I would like to take this moment to stress the importance of opening these letters on the date they are prescribed. Any sooner would endanger your time line, and despite what you may think, I DO value the preservation of destiny; YOUR destiny._

_So please, do not open the next two letters until the time is right. I will, however, give you this: A man is never too far gone, no matter how far he falls, so long as he remembers how to feel joy. Keep your joy close and never forsake what is has to offer because you think yourself undeserving."_

_- Hollus Fenweaver."_

Christoffel could not contain the amused smile that spread across his face. He folded the letter and placed it with the rest, curiosity sated and burning need seemingly forgotten. It was then the call went out from beyond his small closet of a cabin: the ship that carried him had arrived at his brother's domain.

Within half an hour he was escorted onto the dock by human guards to his brother, who stood with a puzzled look on his face in front of a bowing human and orc. They wore freshly sewn tabards of black, white, and gold. They readily answered his questions, explaining their newly formed faction and their assigned task of guarding the main entry dock. Hanariel smiled and asked the pair for their assistance in another task, as Hollus Fenweaver was brought onto the deck in slack chains.

Christoffel watched as his father passed, with a Shepherd guard to his left and right, into the darkened main entrance into the roots. Christoffel moved to follow, but Hanariel's hand blocked him. Hanariel shook his head.

"You can't follow, Narlyn. Make your way to the trunk and wait for me there. I will come to fetch you once…everything is done," Han insisted. Christoffel hesitated a moment before obeying with a nod. He turned and left for the trunk portals, finding very little of the carnage and debris left in the renewed space.

Despite the burden of loss, the people of Mydrassil busied themselves in their toils with a renewed sense of purpose. Tailors prepared lavish tabards and other precious robes with whatever cloth was spared from the attacks and whatever the Bilgewater agents were willing to sell for a reduced price. The rags were transformed into fine drapings for those who called themselves "Shepherds," and the Mydrassil tailors found more gold in their pockets than prior to the faction's formation.

Blacksmiths hammered endlessly to carry out the orders for armor, as their weaponsmith counterparts did their best to design and create weapons fit for their comrades. Their Horde and Alliance contacts, which were willing to help without intent of battling their hated enemies, helped bolster the orders and pumped much needed money into Mydrassil's forming economy.

The dragons in Mydrassil found themselves at a loss of things to do, other than patrol the skies, reinforce the weakened branches, or enjoy the company of their cheerful mortal allies. It was almost as if the attack never happened, but Christoffel could see the lingering hurt and pain behind several pairs of stalwart eyes.

Christoffel felt himself sinking into his thoughts as he walked through the crowd, occasionally bumping into someone and uttering quick apologies under his breath. It wasn't until he felt himself bump into something tall, purple, and plate-armored did an annoyed tone finally break through his foggy state.

"Watch where you're goin…" the night elf barked, voice robbed from her gaping lips as the sight of the rogue came into full view. Green eyes met star-like vision as a jolt of warmth ran through them both. Time seemed to slow for a moment as all the activity around them seemed to go silent. Christoffel felt all that he had held within begin to slip forward, nearly knocking him onto his knees.

At once, the sound and motion returned as another happy voice pulled the pair from the brink of becoming emotional statues.

"Master Chris, you're back!" Ima chirped as she felt a firm tug on her robe-skirt. Her cheerful voice was cut short by F-bomb's shaking head. The realization struck the troll as the scene grew tense and unsure.

"Ohhh," she whispered as her eyes went wide for a moment. A mischievous smile came to her tusked mouth as F-bomb motioned for her to follow. Lumi, seemingly oblivious of the scene, was pulled from her charge's side by Maiev, who spoke words of explanation as they traveled far from the pair, who lingered in silence. Shandori coughed a little and spoke.

"It's…it's really good to see you're safe, demon-sucker," Shandori smiled, hoping the action would defuse the wave of hurt and shame radiating from the rogue. The fog that surrounded his mind left his consciousness raw and exposed. He struggled to breathe as the form before him still breathed, mind begging it to be real. He reached out but recoiled in case he would find nothing but air at his fingertips.

"Dori…I-I thought. I'm-" Chris clinched his eyes shut and avoided her gaze. His heart seemed to want to punch a hole in his chest as Shandori looked on. She quickly placed her hands on his shoulders. Christoffel felt his heart explode as a warm feeling spread to the very tips of his toes.

"Chris, it wasn't your fault. You d-didn't let go! I was pulled down," Shandori spoke as quickly as her shaking voice would allow. Images of his lament-filled eyes and desperate screams echoed in her mind. She felt his hands reach for hers, warm appendages finding that what was taking place was not an illusion.

"Pulled?"

"Yeah, pulled. A branch caught my leg and pulled me down. I landed on a dragon; it was crazy. I'll tell you all about it, but let's go somewhere else. Is that alright with you?" Shandori felt the words escape her as she was pulled forward into a tight, relieved embrace. Christoffel did not seem to concern himself with the potential injury of embracing someone in full plate armor as the hug grew tight. With a smile and a small laugh, Shandori reached and returned the gesture; no glares or verbal disgust could reach them.

* * *

Hollus Fenweaver sat in the center of a large bundle of woven branches and roots. Two others dwelled with him within the central safe room, located deep within the center trunk. Hanariel meditated some distance away, surrounded by sungrass and a phantom breeze. Keesha circled the failed mage like a black cat, eyeing the fel energy that still had him in its lurid grasp.

"So you're the troublemaker, huh? Pity we have to unravel you, you're kinda cute for an old man," Keesha snorted as she turned to see Han cringe for a moment before steadying himself again.

"A little late for such flattery, young lady," Hollus softly smiled. Keesha shook her head.

"Who's flattering? What can I say, I have a soft spot for my own kind," Keesha shrugged.

"There is nothing good about what we do, Mystic. Be glad you had an out from the demonic path," Hollus spoke causing Keesha to give a small cackle.

"Guess even the all seeing, can't see it all."

"…surely you're joking. You're mated to a former priest, for sunwell's sake!"

"That's none of your business, fail-boat. Just because some people are STUPID and let themselves become dreadlord-slaves doesn't mean the rest of us need to suffer. No, Han knows about my…hobbies, and I know all about his. But you won't need to worry about that much longer, will you?" Keesha crossed her arms and closed her eyes as a small, poignant smile came to her crimson lips. "Actually, I think there's someone you should see again, before you go."

"Hmm?"

"Han?" Keesha turned and called, causing him to grunt through his meditation. "Can I summon something really fast, pretty please?"

"…why do you think I'm warding?"

"Love yoooou," Keesha sweetly spoke, blowing a kiss to her permissive mate. A strange air surrounded the High Mystic of the Root as she began to concentrate. An unholy rune bathed with a strange, neutral golden light appeared beneath her and within a matter of moments, a strange demonic being appeared at her side.

Golden runes bound the tall, once-powerful succubus as the mystic-yellow glow in her eyes betrayed the empty smile on her black lips. Keesha roughly pulled her forward and forced the demon, known to her victims as Anomed, onto her knees before a trembling Hollus.

"Bow, bitch," Keesha commanded, causing Anomed to wordlessly bring her horned head down. Keesha's golden gaze rested on Hollus, who felt no air coming in and out of his shallow lungs.

"H-How?"

"She has total power over mortal men; well I'm not a man and won't take her shit. The golden runes you see are my mark, and her will is mine now," Keesha shrugged. Hollus did not move as his tired eyes scanned the pathetic demon. The face that had tortured him and drove him to depravity seemed little more than an empty mask, eyes long ravaged by mystical magic. Hollus recoiled and looked away.

"Send her away."

"No."

"No?"

"You take a good long look, at her. You're getting off light, and from what Han has told me and I've seen in The Ether, you don't deserve to keep on existing. If you do ANYTHING to upset the timeline again, I'll come for you." Keesha stopped speaking as she felt a warm, gentle hand on her shoulder.

"That won't be necessary: he understands his place," Han assured with a serene smile, "Please put your toy away, we need to begin soon."

"Oh, alright," Keesha smiled, and with a snap of her fingers and a demon's pained scream, Anomed was banished to the twisting nether once more. The twin mystics stood at Hollus's sides as they readied their minds for the task at hand. Hollus felt his shoulders relax as a golden light began to radiate from the two High Mystics.

"Hollus Fenweaver, your crimes against time itself are evident. Your tampering has irreversibly damaged the destiny of this world, and while your regret for some of your sins is visible, you show no remorse for changing time at your own whims. Though I and many others owe our continued breath to you and your methods, the story of this world is forever damaged," Hanariel sighed as his mind traveled to the day he should have died in Northrend, but the golden light that preserved him was a thread pulled in time by Hollus' own brazen mind. It was then Keesha's booming, Ethereal voice came to his mental hearing.

"Because of your tampering and the massive holes tore in time, the Infinite Flight have tried time and again to sabotage destiny. Though my honey-bug is alive because of this, many others have had to mitigate your wrong-doing by entering the Caverns of Time and taking the fight to them. Your actions have also hindered the Aspect of Time and contributed to his constant illness. We find you guilty of what you're accused of, and you will be made to truly fix what you've broken," Keesha strongly added.

At once, the safe room became like a night sky. The black void was punctuated by an infinite number of blinking stars and planets as the Mystics began to loose their familiar forms, replaced by woven bundles of pure energy.

Hollus looked to them as a strange wind began to swirl around him. He felt the voice of Hanariel enter his mind from unmoving lips.

"Your time as a bundled consciousness has come to an end, Hollus Fenweaver. Do you have anything to say?" The echoing voice of Hanariel asked. Hollus bowed his head and gave a light chuckle.

"Try as one might, one cannot avoid his destiny, or so it would seem. I regret nothing. Do what you feel must be done," Hollus shrugged with little protest. The wind that swirled around him began to nip at his mortal flesh. The force scraped against his form like sand paper as he felt his body begin to falter. Golden strands began to pull from his woven form as he uttered a surprised gasp. Thread after golden thread of consciousness began to unravel until all that remained of the former mage was loose, astral thread.

Eight of nine black tears in The Ether appeared around them, pulled in by the High Mystics' influence. As a golden film began to glow in the wake of his un-threaded form, the loose strands began to adhere to the holes, slowly but deftly patching them shut.

When eight of the nine holes were patched, the space where Hollus Fenweaver stood was empty. The last sound uttered from the broken man sounded like a relieved sigh echoing in the strange ether.

The High Mystics looked to their work and smiled, despite the looming final hole. As they brought them back to the physical realm, Hanariel took Keesha's hand in his.

"We have done all we can. The rest is up to her now…"

* * *

The crowd cheered as metal struck crumpled buckler. The fearsome Darnassian Panther roared in defiance as it spun to face its mortal enemy: the fluffy, reddish-pink hawkstrider bearing a green-eyed burden. The panther licked its lips as its rider firmly kicked at its sides. It charged again, nimble paws keeping it steady on the wet, snowy gravel as charged forward. With a grunt and a flash of flamboyance, the blood elf was thrown from his mount, defeated but still breathing on the tournament ground.

Orifiel smiled and weakly clapped at the triumphant distraction as a familiar black form took his seat beside her. He passed her a fruity, warm drink and a small purple supporter's flag for the Darnassian team.

"Did I miss anything good?" Setharion gently asked before taking a large, hungry bite of a large strider leg. Orifiel gave an uplifted nod and took a sip of her drink, waving her small flag with shallow cheer.

"Maulgarian won again, he's on fire today. I think this win puts him in the jousting final," Orifiel spoke with a weak smile. She cast her mate a look of apology as they sat on the frigid benches of the expanded Argent Festival. Since the Lich King's defeat, the grounds flourished as a favored tourist spot and side destination for those visiting Dalaran. In Orifiel's aching flight, the grounds were a beacon of cheer and mortal revelry in her teary eyes.

"It will be interesting to see how he fairs against Tigermother in the final later. She's favored to win Horde side, or so I heard in line," Seth spoke between savory bites, "How are you feeling?"

"Much better. Sorry I got all blubbery back there," Orifiel sighed at her weakness.

"Don't apologize for that," Seth coughed, hurrying to swallow in order to speak, "What happened to you was…I can't even think of a good enough word for it."

"What now, though? Han and Keesha will be taking over for us at Mydrassil and, to be honest, I'd rather not be there anymore. Not after this slap in the face. I'm not really sure where we'll end up…"

"Let's not worry about that right now. We'll figure things out, we always do," Seth assured with a voice that did not seemed as solid as the shifting snow.

"Yeah, I know. Just, still in shock I guess. I think I want to go for a walk." Orifiel sighed, taking a small sip of her warm drink.

"Alone?"

"Y-Yes, is that fine with you?"

"Don't worry about me, I'll find something to do. Just feel better," Seth softly commanded, giving his mate a gentle squeeze of the arm and a soft kiss on her wintered lips. Orifiel returned the soft kiss before standing and leaving the spectator area. Seth idly continued to watch the mock-battles with a stewing anger swirling in his chest. The red aspect had promised so much, or so his sharp mind remembered. He inwardly scolded himself for placing any measure of trust in the red-scaled dragons and their aspect.

He gave a long sigh and turned his head to sniff the air around him. His sensing organ confirmed the perfumed musk of a familiar form nearby.

"You may stop hiding, I will not harm you, Kat," Seth flatly spoke, turning again to view the joust. From beneath the bleachers came a cloaked figure that appeared to be shivering in the Icecrown air. "Did she send you to spy on us?

"N-No, I came of my own accord. Please do not blame the queen," Kat spoke with caution and a hint of fear in her eyes. Seth gazed at her, soaking in the emotion like a weed in the sun.

"I blame her for much, but if it makes you feel any better, I will leave that off the list. What is it you want? Where is Terronian?" Seth sneered, picking the last of the meat from the bone before swallowing it whole.

"Terronian is here-we flew together- but I think he's watching the Draenei belly dancers at the moment. You and the Lady Whitedeer aren't going to leave Mydrassil now, are you? Please tell me you'll be returning…"

"What does it matter to you? I surmise your queen will be taking over any time now and make your prince the ruler there," Seth snarled and crossed his arms. Kat quickly shook her head.

"No, she will honor Lady Whitedeer's intent for the tree to go to the mortals, I know it. Is that why she wants to leave, I-I mean aside from recent events?"

"Again, why do you care?" Seth asked with a bit more force and volume. Kat looked at her knees and folded her hands in her lap. A slight blush came to her face as she let out a long sigh.

"It's not fair what happened. I could tell Her Highness knows; she really wanted to tell Lady Whitedeer, she did. Something's not right. Lady Whitedeer is a hero; I was raised on her story and yours too. Many younglings know about the pale hero and her dark knight. I was so happy to meet you both and work on the project. Despite everything…they will not accept her? It doesn't make any sense at all. And…the last person I want to see in any sort of place of power is Romulus."

Setharion leaned back, wide-eyed, wondering if he had misheard the red female's words, but the resentment and fire behind her glaring vision confirmed that the words were true.

"Ex-Excuse me? I think I've finally gone senile…"

"You haven't." Kat gave a bitter laugh and leaned forward, moving her arms beyond her lap and over her knees. "I've…observed you and the Lady together: an elder dragon prince treating a younger commoner of an unknown flight like an equal? I haven't seen you with any consorts or other females in general. I know she was raised by mortals, and having one mate is prevalent in their cultures, but when I see you and how you treat her, I just get so…angry. I'm just…jealous. Plain jealous," Kat admitted, her usually calm voice seemingly rattled in the festive air.

"I'm really not the person you should be telling this to."

"I know you're not a fan of my kind…I'm very sorry for forgetting my place."

"NO! No, I mean you shouldn't be telling ME this; the things I could DO with this information…" Seth spoke, a sinister smile creeping into a terrifying grin as images of ruthlessly taunting his nemesis brought a childish glee into his usually sober heart. The look made Kat jump a little, but brought an amused look to her face.

"To be honest, Romulus could use the tormenting. He thinks, and I quote: "irrational females need the guidance of strong, even-tempered males in order to be happy." Well if that's the case, why am I so miserable when I'm around him?"

Setharion could barely contain an evil-sounding giggle brewing the in the back of his throat. He coughed into his closed fist for a moment to compose himself before turning to the shining-eyed dragon with a smiling sigh.

"Well, it sounds as if you've realized even a young, bright-eyed female can be miserable with prince 'charming.'" Seth snorted. Kat smiled despite the tears welling in her eyes.

"I guess. I didn't really come here to complain to you. I-I want to help you and Lady Whitedeer. I asked my queen and she said if you'd accept me, I can stay with you two and Terronian…A-At least until we can finally help her find her flight; then you can be rid of me if you will it," Kat proposed, bowing her head. She felt a playful hand swat at the back of her long, red curls. When Kat looked up, she found Terronian's smirking face in her sight.

"Ow! What was that for?"

"I felt like it," Terronian shrugged as he moved to sit on the bleacher just above Kat and just below his brow-raised father. "What's going on, where did mother go?"

"For a walk. Kat and I were just talking."

"About what?" Terronian looked to his father and then to a shying Kat with questioning eyes. Seth cleared his throat.

"About how the four of us are going to proceed once Mydrassil is fully entrusted to the mortals," Seth smiled as Kat looked to him with shock-filled beaming eyes. Terronian looked to his father with a hint of pinkness in his cheeks.

"O-Oh Kat's staying with us?" Terronian asked, his carefully crafted persona slightly crackling at the thought.

"For a time, yes. There are…other things that your mother and I need to figure out. Someone with Kat's skill at life-energy and binding may be able to help us with the task if she's willing but that's a discussion for another time. Besides, it looks like Maulgarian is about to take the field again. I'm sure your mother will want to know the results of the final," Seth deftly steered as the two whelps in his sight turned their curious attention to the joust. His night gaze turned to the path Orifiel had taken away from the jousting arena as he felt a small thread of worry worm its way through his chest.

* * *

The melancholy pale dragon walked past the training stables, causing the more alert animals to uncomfortably shift. Orifiel longingly sighed at the creatures that sensed her true nature, but whose limited consciousness caused nothing but fear and trepidation within.

Ever since she was a child, Orifiel brightly smiled at the sight of majestic hippogryphs as they preened their pristine feathers, but she had not once been able to experience their fanciful flight for the same reasons that caused the panthers, horses, and other mounts in the stable grounds to shift and uncomfortably snort.

Though many other dragons did not have this issue, Orifiel seemingly hadn't mastered the true art of concealment, other than from the imperceptive mortals that never seemed to link the animal's strange behavior to her.

There were plenty of shows, demonstrations, and shops to occupy her time as the sparkling wares did manage to catch her fancy. There was even a booth selling rare companion pets, but like their larger mount counterparts, the little creatures screeched and howled when she came near.

The goblin merchant was frantic to get his merchandise to be quiet, shushing off the blushing night elf with a snarling face and thick-nailed fingers. Orifiel did not use her station as a shield, but quickly did as she was told, moving on to more sedentary wares with a sigh. She moved about the fair until she came to a darkened cluster of tents. The energy that surrounded them was dark, frigid, and reeked of death.

Orifiel found the dark tents and black iron structures to be from the early Archerus period, just when the first of the Lich King's death nights were brought from their holy resting places and horrible turned into frozen, un-living soldiers of the scourge. She spied a small sign at the entrance to the cluster that read: 'Guided Tours of Historic Icecrown' with a curious, if not incredulous raised brow. As she walked into the cluster of tents, several black-armored figures emerged.

They looked to her with icy vision, a few missing the otherwise essential organs as the once human undead among them turned back to their business. Orifiel approached the stall where the supposed tours were and noticed something different about the scene. The ice-bound steeds did not shift or shutter in her presence. Instead, they contented themselves with idly shifting the snow beneath their blazing-ice hooves.

"Can I help you miss?" a death knight of orcish origin asked in a strange, twangy Common dialect. His once-green skin was several shades bluer than it was in life, though his pale Mohawk and tusky grin belayed any seriousness his condition may have conveyed.

"Just curious, why are the knights of Archerus giving guided tours of Icecrown? Isn't that inherently dangerous to take civilians for fun tours in scourge territory?" Orifiel asked. The death knight chuckled and shrugged.

"Oh we've cleaned up this place a lot since Arth-ass kicked it. There's still a little bit of Scourge around the citadel, but Icecrown's no more dangerous than any other place in Azeroth. The only thing that'll bite ya now is the frost if yer not careful. Plus, it's something to do aside from our Scourge patrolin' duties, and we can earn a little gold on the side ta'boot. We choose to think of is as killing two birds with one stone, so to speak," he grinned. Orifiel smiled at his unusually chipper persona and gave an acknowledging nod.

"It makes sense, if not a little dangerous; you don't seem so bothered by it, though. In fact, if you don't mind me saying so, you're the first death knight I've met that didn't have a permanent scowl on his face."

"Not at all, ma'am. Shit happens. Some get over it quicker'n others I s'pose."

"Well I must say it's a pleasure to meet such a well-spoken orc as yourself Mr…"

"Name's Steve."

"S-Steve, really?"

"Yup, Steve Cashus as your service."

"Isn't that a…"

"Human name? Yes ma'am. I was raised by, um, same as Thrall, though my parents were a bit less prejudiced than Thrall's "human masters." No, my mam and pap were simple farming folk didn't see the horrors some of the soldiers did, so they were a bit more acceptin' of an orc orphan like me," Steve shrugged.

"Wow, what an amazing story. Why haven't I heard it before? I mean Thrall's is so famous…"

"It is because Thrall's story is convenient propaganda for the Horde. No one wishes to hear about an orc being raised by loving humans," another, hissing voice interjected. Orifiel turned her vision to an undead priest who's grey and damaged features were bathed in a thick purple haze. Steve rolled his frigid eyes at the new comer and sighed.

"Ma'am, this is my booky brother, Sue Cashus."

"My name is NOT SUE, damn it!"

"His name's Sue. After my mam and pap found me, mam really wanted a little girl so their named their next kid…"

"MY NAME IS NOT SUE!" the undead shouted with great audible frustration, "I am J. Rupert Cashus, madam, unfortunate sibling of this oafish green beast," Rupert sighed. Orifiel felt a light, bubbly feeling welling in her throat. She could not hold back the sound as an honest laugh escaped her purple lips.

"I-I'm sorry. I don't mean to laugh. Its just such an odd situation, I do apologize," Ori sighed, wiping a thin, laughter- induced tear from her eye.

"You have no idea," Rupert grumbled turning to his brother and motioning to the deathchargers, "It's nearly time for your patrol."

"Already? Damn…ma'am did you wanna come out with us for a tour? We can get you set up with a frostsaber right quick," Steve asked, giving Orifiel pause. She sighed and shook her head.

"I'm afraid I've never been able to ride mounts. Something about me always frightens them. M-Must be the way I smell or something," Orifiel shrugged with a slight blush. Rupert pursed his gray lips for a moment.

"Well, figure it out quickly. I'm sick of catching flack from your commander when I don't even answer to her, for Dark Lady's sake…" Rupert spoke, voice directed to his brother. Steve looked to the sad-faced elf and to the deathchargers with a raised brow.

"Steeds freak out near you, you say? They don't seem to have an issue. Let me check something out real fast, be right back. Sue, try and be nice to the lady while I'm gone, alright?" Steve cackled as he ran off, just out of range of Rupert's forming shadow spell.

"Of all the…" Rupert sighed turning his sight to the white-robed priestess. He scowled as his glowing, dead eyes fully took in the sight of her. Orifiel leaned her head in question, causing Rupert to look away. A few moments later, Steve returned with a little more excitement behind his frosty blue eyes.

"I got good news, ma'am. You can't use our standard-issue mounts: they're for the knights only. But we did manage to snag a few mounts from Icecrown Citadel a while back that ARE user friendly for yer kind. It'll be a bit extra, but we can take you around some of the extra spots we don't usually go, if you're up to it. Sound good?" Steve offered. Orifiel's heart skipped a beat. A mount that could carry her swiftly through the frozen wastes was a truly rare thing, in her mind, and before she could stop herself, her hand moved to untie her coin purse.

"I'd like that. I have some…field experience dealing with demons as well as scourge so, it shouldn't be too dangerous, right?"

"The scourge ain't got balls or teeth anymore. You don't have a thing to worry about, lady," Steve spoke with eyes seemingly asking for her name.

"Um, I'm Ori," Orifiel informed, passing half the gold in her coin purse to the grinning death knight. He held it for a moment before placing the shining material in his own secure bags and motioning for the priest to follow. Steve led his new charge to the stables where, sure enough, the living animals nearby began to whine and shift in Orifiel's presence. There was one among them that did not budge. The great steed stood, looking very similar to the other deathknight steeds, only it was head and shoulders taller than the rest with blood-red armor.

As Steve and Orifiel approached, the most the creature did was cast a curious look to the pair before returning to its previous position, seemingly deep in thought.

"He's amazing!" Orifiel smiled, reaching out a slow hand to stroke what little exposed flesh there was along its neck. The creature did not move to bite or kick the inexperienced dragon-elf, but did not seem to notice the friendly gesture.

"He's a Crimson Deathcharger. The others have all been sold or given as personal gifts from the Highlord. Mostly gifts though, the price tags on these things are damn horrendous," Steve cringed, "Do you need any help saddling up?"

"Oh…all I can get," Orifiel nervously laughed. Though she was not wearing the ideal clothing for riding, her tough, double-stitched pants were more than durable for a pleasure ride through the frozen wastes. Steve went over the basics of steering, leading, stopping, and the other essentials to riding while he guided Orifiel's steed out of the stables. Within moments, the pair joined the other death knights and others who paid for a fanciful tour as they prepared to leave.

The ride started simply enough. The group traveled through the sights where the Scourge and the cult of the damned used to wander, but all was silent. The massive glaciers and frozen mountains held a less sinister shine, and their majesty brought a sparkle to the new comers' imaginations. Orifiel, having never ridden a mount before, felt her legs burn from half-squatting whenever the group moved to a gallop, fearing the alternative of a sore bottom.

Her steed seemed to sense her novice's touch and moved with his fellow mounts in an orderly manner. Steve looked back to Orifiel for a moment before turning to ask the group's main guide a question. The guide looked back to the decorated priestess then back to Steve with a slow but visible nod. Steve brought his death charger around to ride along side Orifiel with his ever-present smile plastered on his frozen face.

"I got the all clear to take you along the crawling path, lots of history on that road. Interested?"

"Sure," Orifiel gave an awkward smile as Steve reached for her reigns, gently pulling the Crimson Deathcharger's attention from the pack. The pair broke off and headed in the direction of southeastern Icecrown, where tall, sinister ziggurats still stood in the distance. As they approached the eerie place, frozen webs and insectoid carcasses still littered the ground from battles old. Orifiel felt a shiver run through her that went far deeper than glacial chill.

"This place is…creepy."

"It's an old Nerubian city, Scourge-allied Nerubian city. Do you know the history behind it?"

"Yes, the old Argent encampments are just beyond that mountain isn't it? I think I flew over it when I came up."

"Thought you said you couldn't do mounts…"

"Gnomish copter," Orifiel quickly fibbed.

"Ah, gotcha" The pair continued through the old scourge city, all the while Orifiel felt something prick her mind. At first, she attributed the feeling to all the death and possible ghosts that may have lingered, but as they approached an open spot where one of the massive Nerubian beetles used to thunder, the horses began to back-trod, and the feeling turned to something far more real than specters of the past. The air began to reek of foul magic, a distorted, evil feeling that no brainless zombie could ever hope to wield. Orifiel instinctively stroked her steed's neck, and the action seemed to cause the slightly shaking mount to steady.

"The hell?" Steve grunted as he tried to urge his mount forward.

"Something's wrong here…"

"The scourge is gone from here though,"

"It's not the scourge…something else," Orifiel's words trailed off as she coaxed the horse foreword onto the large patch of iceless, blighted land. With much reluctance, Steve's mount finally followed. "It's almost…it can't be!" Ori whispered as a crackling sound came to her long, perked ears. She gasped as the ground quickly crumbled beneath her steed's scrambling hooves as the large patch of land fell, forming what seemed like a large sinkhole. Steve pulled back and lead his mount away just in time to reach the edge of what was a crater the size of one of the surrounding ziggurats.

"Ori!" Steve shouted over the roar of crumbling earth. When the dust and debris finally settled, the deathknight peered over the edge to see something that looked like a patch of shimmering stones in the darkness. "Ori are you alright?"

"I-I'm fine. The horse needs some healing though!" Ori coughed as she dusted herself off for a moment, ensuring she herself did not suffer any broken bones before moving to the Crimson Deathcharger. Its rear leg was bent in a manner it shouldn't have been, and its frigid eyes seemed wide with pain.

Orifiel concentrated on the broken leg as golden threads surrounded it. Within moments, the injury became rendered as if it never happened. The horse, seemingly surprised by the speedy heal, stood again. The light from its hooves shown against the strange, violet stones that surrounded them in the thousands. Orifiel felt her heart drop. Her own glowing vision took in the sight. What looked like stones were actually eggs, thousands of violet, pulsing dragon eggs that stretched endlessly in the small underground cavern.

"Oh…my…Goddess…" Ori whispered as the Crimson Deathcharger nudged her shoulder, as if motioning to be petted on its frosty snout. Orifiel obliged, comforting them both. While she could easily crush the small, slumbering unborn, the thought repulsed her far more than the thought of fighting them in fair combat as adults. Aside from her repulsion, any harm that came to the eggs might trip an alarm or send protectors to that remote section of the caverns.

"I'll send for help, hold tight!"

"That won't be necessary," Orifiel sighed and allowed her elfish form to slack. Steve watched as a small white spot at the bottom of the sinkhole began to swell until a shining, pale dragon filled his vision. The slight breeze in the exposed cavern was just enough for Orifiel to find lift. With the squirming steed in her firm grasp, Orifiel the pale dragon rose from the hole to find a slack-jawed death knight gaping at her. Orifiel set the Crimson Deathcharger down before returning to her night elf persona.

"You, you're a…"

"I'll explain it to you later; we need to get back to the Argent Tournament. There is a massive clutch beneath our feet. The Twilight Dragonflight is here."


	37. Flea 37: For Whom The Bell Tolls

**Straydog Saga**

Flea 37: For Whom The Bell Tolls

* * *

Argent Confessor Paletress was quietly going over the expense reports for the Argent Tournament when a panicked, undead deathknight burst into her office. Though the act was not uncommon among the surly undead, the deathknight quickly apologized for the intrusion, which made the confessor's mind creep with worry.

"Lady Carter, is everything alright?" rhe silver-blond human dressed in modest gold and grey robes asked, standing to walk towards the stern-faced death knight.

"Confessor, one of my soldiers and his companion needs to see you immediately. I do not have all the details, but in accordance with protocol—"

"No need, dear. Please tell them to come in." Paletress motioned for the deathknight to fetch her subordinate and his charge. The orc was a familiar presence in the tournament grounds, but the newcomer was completely foreign in Confessor Paletress' aged but still sharp vision. Paletress nodded to the night elf, who wore priestly robes of Elune, eyes urging whoever had the ill news to speak. "Greeting, priestess. What news do you bring?" Paletress asked.

Orifiel, along with Steve's occasional story-enhancing interjections, told their account of the incident, sparing no details of the sinkhole or the ghastly clutch it exposed. The one thing neither of them mentioned was Orifiel's draconic transformation, though Orifiel never once threatened the deathknight nor explicitly asked him not to. Paletress' already pale visage seemed to go ghostly white at the news. She moved back and sank into her humble, wobbly seat.

"T-This is ill news indeed," Paletress spoke as if her lost breath would not return.

"Confessor, you may not know of me, but I do command a sizable force at Mydrassil. I also have a…relationship with the dragon flights. Your faire grounds will not go unprotected. But we, er you, will need to send the civilians home…"

"I know of you: Tirion has told me about the lady of the Mystic Tree. Lady Whitedeer, am I correct?"

"Yes, Confessor."

"Well then, Lady Whitedeer, I am hard-pressed to disregard the word of a fellow woman of the light cloth. I will do everything in my power to ensure the safety of the grounds but…we have stakeholders who may not wish to see operations interrupted," she sighed as she placed her wrinkled hand atop the mounting bills and reports.

"Your stakeholders would be hard-pressed to complain once the violet dragons make a move. We can only hope they reason the sinkhole was created by some wandering scourge. If they learn of our discovery, they will not sit idle."

"You're preaching to the choir, my Lady. I will send word to Lady Windrunner and Lord Fordring. If the violet flight does think the sinkhole was created by scourge, they will hopefully stay any action against us, for now. Gathering forces here would imply we DO know something," Paletress stressed behind bound blue eyes. Though her heart seemed to scream to listen to the night elf's words, her mind echoed her orders and the will of the tournament's backers.

"They do not operate that way. They will attack this place for good measure. Once I return to Mydrassil I will come back with my people. I can only hope your Tournament is not attacked before then."

"I hope the same. If that is all…" the confessor nodded in the direction of the exit as she moved to see her guests out of her office. Steve looked as if he was going to speak snide words to his employer, but Orifiel cut off any motion to do so. Once they were outside the main tent and earshot, Orifiel found she could not stop an angry hiss and a curse from her orc companion.

"What, so we wait here like sittin' ducks?" Steve growled.

"You forget; you answer to ME, soldier. She might not have the authority to do anything in her little group, but that doesn't mean that I don't. I'll send word to Acherus for reinforcements. We can only hope that they arrive in time if anything does come of this. In the mean time, I will call back scouts and patrols for the night, just in case," Commander Carter snorted seeming to bring Steve's usual grin back to his face. Steve gave a respect-filled salute to his superior as she returned the gesture before leaving for the mail center as Steve continued to follow the strange dragon priest.

"I will find my kin and send word to Mydrassil and Wyrmrest for their support. I know the people of Mydrassil will drop whatever they're doing and throw on their overcoats at my word. Hopefully the dragons will act sooner, as they're closer to the threat themselves,"

"But you're, um," Steve spoke, lowering his voice as they approached some of the cheering people about the tournament, "you're one of them, ain'tcha? Why wouldn't they listen to ya?"

"Erm, lets just say I'm about as out of place among them as an orc at a human family reunion."

"Nuff said," Steve shrugged with a knowing sigh as the pair continued to walk. Orifiel led the deathknight toward the inn, where she assumed her family would be waiting.

Sure enough, the three dragons were enjoying a simple, if not tasty meal of imported Rhino tartar and bread. A flash of a smile came to Setharion's face at the sight of his seemingly uplifted mate, but as soon as the bad news escaped her lips, he felt himself settle back into his usual scowling expression. Kat nearly choked on her supper as Trenton let out an annoyed sigh.

"These dragons are like weeds. Will we ever be rid of them?" Trenton spoke as he folded his hands behind his head and looked to the ceiling. Orifiel shook her head and turned her attention to the distressed-looking red dragon.

"Kat, please head back to Wyrmrest and inform the Dragon Queen of this news. Trenton, you head back to Mydrassil and let Keesha and Han know about this. Steve's commander is already sending word to the Highlord and, if he allows it, we'll have a legion of deathnights here as well," Orifiel paused, motioning to the deathknight beside her in silent introduction. He waved to the other dragon-mortals with his constant, friendly-tusked grin and they nodded in kind. "If we can gather a large enough force, we may be able to get rid of these 'weeds' once and for all."

* * *

Imajin the troll mage walked about the bustling halls of Mydrassil's trunk unusually alone. The others seemed to feel a collective rumble in their stomachs while she could only rub the occasional knot in hers. Since the influx of new people began pouring into Mydrassil's renewed branches, she found herself ducking behind corners and hiding among her friends every time a familiar form in Dalaran student robes appeared.

Though she stood far taller than the gnomish persona they knew from their classes or from the ice cream shop she worked part time, something about the way they stared made her shoulders tense. She didn't see the faces of her roommates, nor the other close friends she had made the semester before. Images of their horrified faces and harsh words flashed through her mind as she wondered what would happen if they learned the truth.

She clinched her eyes shut and quickly shook her orange-puff head with a sigh. In her muddled state, Ima did not notice the large body in her path. She quickly apologized after bumping shoulders with the surprised shaman, who did a double take at the troll's use of masterful common. Ima blushed for a moment before coughing into her three-fingered fist.

"I mean, sorry bout dat," Ima spoke in her native dialect. The troll shook his head.

"Nah mon, I understood what cha said. Just not used to it comin from one of us, ya know? 'Specially when ya speak it like a human," the troll shaman smiled.

"Oh well, thanks I s'pose. I had to learn it so well ta study wit dem in Dalaran," Ima's eyes went wide as the words escaped her tusked mouth. She quickly clamped her lips as the shaman raised a brow.

"A troll studyin in Dalaran, eh? Tink I woulda hearda dat…" the troll shaman spoke with incredulousness in his voice. Ima sighed, though in the back of her mind a small voice screamed at her to be silent, and explained her strange story of gnomish transformation and infiltration into the exclusive Dalaran school system. Her forward thoughts reasoned that no human, gnome, or high elf would believe the words of one of her kind, if he was inclined to reveal her secret to the world. As her tale progressed a frown formed on the shaman's face. Ima found her words evaporate in his negative gaze.

"W-Wat be wrong?" she asked.

"Nutin, just sounds kinda wrong, don't cha tink?"

"Why's it wrong?"

"Having to hide like dat's got to be more work dan it's wert, ya know? Look I don't even know ya, so you can't fret about my opinion, miss?"

"I-Imajin," Ima spoke with questioning eyes as the shaman's eyes suddenly went wide.

"I know dat name! You fought with Vol'jin and his crew against da sea witch, didn't cha?"

"Er, yeah. I didn't do as much as da rest dough. I tink it be kinda silly I get da 'jin' on my name for it. Kinda makes me sound like a boy, right?" Ima nervously laughed.

"Don't say dat. I know a few who died in dat battle. My good friend Zuni, rest his bones, be one of dem. I hear he died trying to save da udders…dat be true?" the shaman asked with hopeful eyes. Ima sadly smiled and nodded.

"He was da bravest of all. He used to go on and on bout how he was gunna be da greatest hero in da world. I tink he woulda been too," Ima paused as her words started flowing on to another subject, "I'm sorry, mon. Didn't getchur name."

"Jango of Flowin' Waters, at'chur service," Jango smiled and gave a small bow of introduction. Ima's ear's perked at the name for a moment as she gave a small laugh.

"I used'ta know a Jango waaaaay back when I was liddle. We lived in da same village but, uh, it was burned down when I was a few years old," Ima spoke as her expression turned sad, "I hated him so much, he used ta tease me from sun up to sun down. Dunno if he made it, I know his mama didn't," Ima closed her eyes and shuddered at the long buried memory of that day, which resurfaced during the battle with Mizuon in Mydrassil's roots.

Jango felt his stomach tense as he squinted for a moment. His red vision quickly scanned the soft-looking but wart-kissed face, slightly drooping body that, in a few years, would sag in all the right ways, and styled but slightly wild orange hair as a spark went off in his memory. A sinister smile came to his mammoth-tusked mouth.

"Nah, ya can't be 'elf-face' you're too pretty, if ya don't mind me sayin so," Jango offered. His smiled widened as the troll in front of him went bright purple from the tips of her pointed ears to the base of her neck. Ima sputtered for a moment as the name that was the bane of her existence for most of her early life inflamed her senses. Memories of the green haired child who lead the others in their teasing brought renewed fury to her otherwise sweet demeanor.

Though they were both in their late teens, Jango's crooked smile and playful eyes returned her to that far away place and the furious temper that lay in mental dust in the back of her mind.

"You…y-you…YOU JERK!" Ima screeched, causing several people nearby to stop what they were doing and look. A roaring flame formed between her hands for a moment as Jango let out an oddly satisfied laugh. He dropped a healing totem from his side-pouch and readied a cooling water spell. But just as the temper and fire spell came, it was quickly replaced by a flowing stream of tears.

"G-Gogo! I can't believe it!" Ima sniveled and moved to ensnare the chuckling shaman in a tight, bear-hug. "W-Where have ya been all dis time? Why didn't yer family come to Sen'jin after da fires?" Ima asked through her trembling tears. Jango pried his arms free, loosely wrapped them among the crying mage, and sighed.

"My family didn't go to Senjin 'cause I was da only one who made it ta shore," Jango gave a sweet smile before gently patting the sniffling mage on the back, "It was dark'n I got lost in da desert. The scorpions and boars nearly had an easy snack of lil'Gogo but a wandering orc picked me up'n took me in. Rest is history, mon now stop yer cryin' elf-face. People are startin ta-" Jango winced with a playful cough as he felt a fist strike his side.

"Stop callin' me dat. It's not like I can call ya 'tiny-tusk' anymore and I'm not an elf-face," Ima growled as she began wiping her tears away. "I-I still can't believe it, Gogo. I'm glad yer alive. We got lots to catch up on, yeah?"

"S'pose we do, yeah…" Jango paused for a moment as he heard his name called from a pair of familiar lips. Ima could see the wide-eyed dwarf running up just behind her old friend as she stopped to bend over and place her trembling hands on her shaking knees. All friendly emotion, sad, joyous, or otherwise seemed to drain from the scene.

"Telma, what be wrong?"

"It's, it's 'THEL-ma damnit. And we just got word from Northrend. Lord Redmane and the High Mystics are going to make the announcement soon," Thelma panted, moving closer to the trolls and leaning forward to whisper, "They found a huge nest of Twilight dragons up there or something. They're going to call for volunteers to go up there n' fight them, or so the letters said. I only got to skim them. Thrall told me to round up the Earthen Ringers and have a meeting about it."

"Twilight dragons in Northrend? I've traveled around there recently, where could they have been hiding?" Ima spoke in her usual perfect Common, causing a small snort to break through Jango's serious expression. Ima cast him a bemused look before returning her attention to the dwarf.

"From what I heard, the clutch was found in an old Nerubian scourge city, underground. My guess is they killed off whatever was left after the Lichking fell and moved in. I don't know about you, but I'd love a new pair of dragon-scale boots," Thelma asserted.

"How soon will the rest of us get any information about it? Do you know, Miss Thelma?"

"I'm not sure, but I doubt they'll be waiting long on this. You're Lord Redmane's student, aren't you, girl?" Thelma asked, as her memory brought images of the young, often weeping troll mage who sometimes appeared at Lord Redmane's side.

"Y-Yes."

"Well then you can come too if you like. The more the merrier." Thelma motioned for the two trolls to follow. The dwarf shaman hastily lead them from the bustling trunk to the main meeting room where Mydrassil's leaders, their allies, and direct subordinates waited to discuss who would stay and continue to rebuild the Mystic Tree and who would journey to the frozen wastes to take the fight to their old enemies.

* * *

Orifiel woke to the sound of a tremendous explosion. The sun had set hours before, and the moon found itself at its highest point when the swarm came. A moment later, the sound of pained screams became evident in her groggy head as flickering flashes shone in her inn-room's window.

"S-Seth!" she hissed as loudly as her sleep-dry throat would allow as her elder mate slowly came out of a comfortable dream.

"W-Wuh?" He groaned as another, closer explosion brought him fully into the waking word. What awaited them beyond their comfortable room would make the strongest warriors shiver in fear despite the conflagration quickly forming on the icy ground. The two dragons quickly conjured battle robes on their mortal disguises and left the inn to witness the carnage.

The majority of the slain were Silver Covenant soldiers and deathknights. Though Confessor Paletress did not give official orders to leave, the remains of warning notices floated in the burning air around the Tournament grounds. Sure enough, violet scales glistened in their burning breath as dragons of all ages loosed their fury.

"We need to find a place to change and get in the air," Seth growled, looking to the embattled mortals with a curse. Ori nodded and quickly looked for a place for the pair to transform without being noticed, despite the majority of the mortals' attention being drawn by their attackers.

"Damn it there isn't time!"

"We can't just change here!" Seth shouted as a roaring ball of fire came just between the pair, sending both leaping to the ground, "They'll see and you'll have compromised everything."

"People are dying," Orifiel shouted, conjuring a spell of bold light between her fingers. With a roar of frustration, she sent the smiting light slashing into a nearby violet dragonspawn, nearly halving the creature as it fell to the ground in a bloodied heap. Seth smiled in approval as he grasped his mate by the wrist and pulled her in the direction of the stables where the gruesome sight of dead and burning mounts assaulted them.

Finding no living or un-living beings still conscious there, the pair of dragons shed their mortal guise, swelling into two massive creatures in the violet dragons' sight. A few of the younger drakes shivered at the sight of the elder black dragon's scar-marred form, while others simply continued their master's work.

A few even seemed to flee upon seeing the visage that resembled their dead former master. Setharion snarled as his massive wings allowed him passage into the smoky air with his mate at his tail. She closed her eyes a moment and summoned golden strings to her claws, allowing their light-bathed touch to spread to the black dragon in front of her. As the violet dragons turned their attention to the newcomers, the golden light seemed to give Setharion thicker scales as what might have been lacerating strikes fell like weak scratches on his form.

The violet dragons unfortunate enough to fall within biting distance were crunched nearly in two by an old but solid maw. The violet dragonspawn that terrorized the mortals below found their usually nimble feet slowed. Some of Orifiel's golden threads reached the ground below, snaring their steps and allowing the injured to flee to relative safety.

As the violet numbers began to dwindle, a dark spot on the horizon came like a malignant cloud. Setharion smelled something foul on the wind that well overtook the horrific sent of draconic carnage. His glowing golden eyes strained to see the specter, but as it neared, he felt the blood in his veins run cold.

The dragon, surrounded by its servants, consorts, and elder children seemed to be drenched by thick clouds. His face sparked a panicked memory in the back of Setharion's mind as the terrifying visage came into full view.

"I-It cannot be…"

"What is it?" Orifiel marveled at the dark creature, which seemed to be made of clouds and energy rather than flesh and bone. Setharion tore a young drake from his path and broke its neck before replying.

"D-Dargonax."

"A Devourer?" Orifiel asked, translating the draconic word to one her mind could better understand. The creature slowed his approach, motioning to his entourage to be still.

"So the rumors were true then: the great Setharion the exile has returned to Azeroth from his respite in Draenor?" the deep-voiced Dargonax calmly asked with no hint of mockery in his voice. Setharion did not reply. Dargonax turned his deadly gaze to the pale dragon, nodding to her with a continuously cool smile.

"And the pale lady is here as well, I've heard much about you both from my children. I am glad we could meet before what must be done is done. I have much to thank you both for, of course…"

"Thank us? You have a strange way of showing it." Orifiel interrupted, causing the cloud-dragon's smile to widen.

"It is not my fault you and your mate insist on lowering yourselves to defend mortals and lesser dragons. But that doesn't matter. When my flight is through, the land and sea will know only our touch. In gratitude for facilitating my second coming, you both are more than welcome to join us in this endeavor. This will be your only chance to do so, of course," he calmly informed.

Dargonax could not hold back his amused laughter at the sight of their confused faces. He motioned for his entourage to get into position. Setharion assessed the circling dragons, but in his sight, their small, weak forms were no cause for him or his mate to move.

"What are you talking about?" Orifiel demanded.

"Oh…you are unaware? Why it was your brazen disregard for your own craft that allowed myself and my mother to escape the finality of death. Just as the void was to claim us both, we felt the golden threads of time pull us through; threads pulled and set in motion when you altered the fate of one who was supposed to die. Though the red flight and their filthy mortal minions dispatched poor mother, I knew better than waste my chance on an insane aspect's half-baked plans. You should be happy, delivering me back into this diseased world in such desperate need of cleansing. Will you join me and my children in this effort, or shall I do the timeline a service and correct the error that allowed my coming?" Dargonax calmly asked as if inquiring if the two would like one lump or two with their tea.

Setharion wordlessly answered with a vicious fire blast to the left, severely burning the young drakes and sending them to the scorched ground. Orifiel bound the drakes and dragons to their right, slowing their wing beats until they sank like violet stones.

Dargonax closed his eyes and nodded a moment before opening them wide and slipping into a purely incorporeal state. His gaze fixated on the pair, perceptive vision seeking out weaknesses in their physical form. Orifiel's form bore old scars, well healed and not easily exploitable in her current state. His children's fresh damage on Setharion's scaled hide, however, made Dargonax's eyes squint with glee.

He lunged forward, seeping into the black night like a venomous shadow, and moved to strike. Setharion deftly avoided the blow but found his bones were beginning to ache in the frigid air. The younger, magically aged Dargonax seemed fresh, and his movements were seemingly uninhibited by his environment.

What Setharion lacked in youth and stamina he made up for in his mate's ability to heal his dull aches and minor wounds. But the incorporeal dragon deftly dodged Setharion's blows, teasingly allowing his form to fade in an out of sight as they fought. All the while, Orifiel was looking for the Twilight dragon's great weakness: a portal to the phase his physical form dwelled in the magical plane. Despite having enhanced night vision, she could not see the hallmark purple portal.

A sense of urgency began to overtake her, as she felt her claws begin to ache and her wings falter from the rate of her casting. Her golden healing threads soon began to diminish as a dull pain began to wrack her.

"What is the matter? Getting too old for this are we?" Dargonax calmly laughed as Setharion's strikes seemed to grow erratically guided by anger, rather than finesse. Suddenly, all good humor and poise left the violet prototype. Setharion's fresh scars began to glow in Dargonax's vision, and the scent of fresh power became intoxicating.

Dargonax lunged with stabbing claws as his talons dug deep into Setharion's sensitive scars. With both talons imbedded in Setharion's neck and shoulder, Dargonax began to feed. He let his form go lax, into a flowing cloud of death and corruption as he putrefied the black dragon's insides with his dark poisons and began to drink. Setharion screeched in a pain so intense he could nothing more than thrash around like a tortured animal. The energy, in its altered form, caused the violet dragon to swell, taking on aspects of his victim, and even as Setharion's wings failed him, Dargonax exerted little effort to keep them both in the air.

Orifiel roared, and summoning all of her remaining strength, forced her golden threads deep into Setharion. Her brow began to tremble as her energy coursed through the black dragon as it did the day they met in outland. Orifiel's determination shown in her eyes as the reach of her energy finally met the horrible corruptive wounds.

"Pathetic!" Dargonax chuckled as he forced his energy further, taking more of Setharion's liquid flesh-energy and causing a pain so profound it brought the elder dragon to the brink of madness. Orifiel pushed with all her might, golden energy and violet corruption in a tug of war for Setharion's life. Orifiel's heart screamed as she felt her power loosing ground. She found it increasingly difficult to concentrate on staying in the air and defending her mate.

Orifiel felt a claw digging into her back as some of the dragons still playing with their mortal chew-toys left their play and joined their master in his. As a vicious maw snapped at her throat, her grip on her beloved was lost.

She desperately clawed at the newcomer, a red-violet drake, swiping and slicing to remove the enemy from her. Setharion's pained screams seemed to cause a viciousness to rise within his mate as Orifiel's usually healing claws turned to the slaughter. She dug her claws close together within her enemy and pulled, spilling its entrails to the ground bellow.

She turned her vision back to her mate, whose usually red blood was falling to the ground in black, putrid blobs. His screams came less and less as the seconds ticked by. Before Orifiel could send her energy back into him, a beam of blue light flew into Dargonax's back, evoking a roar of surprise.

He turned to see a flock of newcomers flying into the fray: dragons with azure scales and an affinity for magic. Though the younger dragons knew nothing about fighting his kind when portals were unavailable, the one who struck him bore a familiar face. With a sneer, Dargonax turned from his victim and withdrew, sending Setharion hurtling towards the ground. Orifiel moved to catch him, but only served to slow his decent.

Her heart lurched at his injuries: massive gashes along his neck, chest, and arm that reeked of rot and corruption. She wasted no time in applying her healing techniques. Despite her fatigue, she was able to undo a great deal of the physical damage done, but when her usual rendering was complete, deep, glowing purple scars of corruption remained.

She used the rest of her reserves to bring him back to his night elf form; providing a smaller target for a passing violet dragon should they pursue them. The still dragon-formed Orifiel picked the unconscious elf-dragon and held him close as her vision turned to the battle above. She could see the blue flight in action, deftly dispatching their enemies as the mortals below began to clean up the remaining violet dragonspawn.

Only one among the blue dragon force seemed to have any affect on Dargonax himself. The new aspect of magic, Kalecgos, had fought alongside Krasus, Rhonin, and their allies long ago, when the creature before them was first spawned. In the bleak night, the blue aspect called forth energies from the same plane in which Dargonax's physical form dwelled, rendering his incorporeal form vulnerable.

Orifiel watched as Dargonax fought with her mate's own talents. Fireballs only an elder could produce flew from his lips, striking their target and beating the blue aspect back long enough for the beast to make his escape, abandoning his forces to their fate. Kalecgos roared for his consorts and subordinates to pursue Dargonax, and several turned from battle to obey.

But after a few miles of pursuit, the wily twilight lord used the cloudy night to his advantage, blending into the dark landscape and loosing the blue dragons in the night.

Orifiel turned her vision back to her unconscious mate. Without concern for what mortals might see, she returned to her night elf guise. She placed a soft hand on his chest. His heartbeats were rapid, his breathing was shallow, and he was unnaturally pallid. She pulled him further from the flames and the carnage as the blue dragons finished the remainder of the violet dragons and their minions.

"Seth, Seth, please wake up, please!" Orifiel whispered with a quiet panic and fear evident in her voice as she stroked his cheek. She held him close and put her face close to his. No matter how much more healing light she sent into him, his condition did not seem to improve. She shook her head as mortal forms began emerging through the flames.

Orifiel looked up with tear-filled eyes to see the battle-marked forms Steve, Rupert, and Commander Carter looking down to her. The two undead stared at the revealed dragons with a mixture of fear and disbelief in their vision while Steve's grin was replaced by a look of grave concern.

"S-Steve, he won't wake up." Orifiel spoke with helplessness in her voice. The two undead looked to the orc with wide eye-sockets as he quickly came to Seth's side. He shook his head.

"He needs help quick, or he ain't ever wakin' up," Steve asserted, glancing over Orifiel's panicked form with a sigh, "You're in no state to be transformin' or flying nowhere. We got a lotta work to do here, but you tell me where we need to take him to get better, and I'll see he gets there, alright darlin'? Don't cry…" Steve calmly spoke as he placed a hand on Orifiel's shaking shoulder. Orifiel did her best to stop the icy feeling in her chest as Steve effortlessly lifted the ailing night elf and cradled his form.

"My-Mydrassil. The tree might be able to heal him more than I can." Orifiel spoke with hope and certainty in her voice.

"H-He won't make it that far, he'll die before we can get him there…wouldn't Dragonblight be more appropriate?" Rupert suggested, earning him an angry look from Orifiel.

"That won't be necessary," a strong yet sympathetic voice spoke as its owner descended from his high place in the sky. The massive form of Kalecgos landed in the jousting arena before he himself took a smaller, human form. He closed his eyes in concentration, and a few moments later, a large portal with an image of the Mystic Tree within appeared.

"Orifiel, take the portal to Mydrassil. My flight will assist the mortals here, and we'll brief the others later; go now," Kalecgos insisted. Orifiel thanked the blue aspect before looking to Steve, who in turn looked to his commander for approval. She reluctantly nodded. With that, the three traveled through the portal and to Setharion's only hope for survival.


	38. Flea 38: The Edge of Glory

**Author Note:** Sorry its taken me so long to update lately. Work has been...worky lately. I've also been working on the reboot to my original novel: "The Red Thread Tapestry" which will be posted on . I'll post a link to it when there's more content. But don't worry, Straydog Saga and Imajin That! Take priority (since, well, lets be honest. Rarely do fans of fan fic writers or machinima artists get any kudos for their original stuff...poor Ian Beckman.) Anyway, enjoy the update and stay tuned for the link to "The Red Thread Tapestry."

* * *

**Straydog Saga**

Flea 38: The Edge of Glory

* * *

All was silent at Setharion's bedside. Orifiel knelt beside his bed with her head buried in his arm and her grip on his unmoving hand. Terronian sat beside his mother, arm around her shoulder in an attempt at comfort. Steve stood by the window, grin wiped from his tusked face as arcane leaves whimsically fluttered by, seemingly oblivious to their co-creator's strife. The twin High Mystics did their best to employ their own talents to aide in Setharion's healing but the root and branch magic seemed to work slowly, if at all. The best draconic healing seemed to have no affect on his painfully slumbering mind as the violet corruption Setharion had resisted all his life was finally, corrosively coursing trough him.

The sound of shuffling and angry demands met Orifiel's ears, but she did not lift her head to see Sabellian enter the room. His eyes seemed to choke on the sight of his fallen, sickened brother. Some of the other dragons present stood there, agape, at the strange, familial hurt they rarely saw from the black-scaled dragons as Sabellian moved to his brother's opposite side.

"It is true…" Sabellian sighed as he looked to his brother's wounds with a grimly sick feeling in his throat. The smell of corruption reeked from Setharion's mortal-formed pores so strongly that Sabellian nearly recoiled at the stench. "The Twilights did this, there is no mistaking that smell. Dear brother…"

"Then it seems our efforts in Northrend were for naught," another male's voice softly sighed. Romulus stood beside his mother, the dragonqueen, and watched the scene as far from the tainted dragon as the space would allow. Alexstrasza shook her head at her child's words and took a few steps forward, stopping a few paces away form the heart-broken priestess.

"Not for naught, but it seems, our success in ridding Wyrmrest of its enemies was grossly exaggerated," Alexstrasza softly spoke, closing her eyes and lowering her head for a moment before looking up to see another aspect and his entourage boldly rush into the room.

"Dragonqueen, ambassadors," Kalecgos quickly spoke with as polite a nod as his rushed state would allow, "we've managed to drive off the remainder of the Twilight dragons into their boroughs- for now. H-How is he?"

"I don't see how that's any concern of yours," Sabellian sneered to the aspect of magic with little fear in his defiant eyes. Kalecgos found his cheeks flush for a moment, but unlike his former youthful self, he kept his instinctual retort from spewing forward. He coughed for a moment before responding.

"In any regard, I fear the infestation may run deeper than we could have imagined. We have spies and heroes scouting the catacombs as we speak. Hopefully, they will get back to us soon with the full extent of things," Kalecgos sighed.

"While it is prudent to know what we're getting into, we simply don't have time to waste on perfect logistics. The Twilights have attacked this place and now the Argent Tournament. They're exposed, and they could mount a massive attack soon; and if we're not mobilized to meet it…" Chromie shivered, prompting his young ward, Briyedormi, to place a hand on his tiny shoulder.

"Well, we certainly don't want to go in blind…" Romulus commented, crossing his arms and glancing to the single orc in their draconic meeting.

"B-But we can't be too slow either. T-The time to act is now," Briyedormi softly asserted, glancing to Setharion's bed with a light twinge of sadness. Slowly, the room where the injured Setharion lay erupted in a cacophony of controlled disagreement. It was then Orifiel gently patted her mate's hand and slowly stood. Terronian looked to his mother with a hint of fear in his gaze at the white-hot anger in her eyes. She kept her gaze on her battered mate as she spoke without her usual priestly reverence.

"SILIENCE! Do you have no decency at all? To argue in my mate's own chamber while he lies dying?" The room went silent. "You all can do as you like. Mydrassil, in cooperation with the Silver Covenant, Sunreavers, and Knights of Archerus will conduct our own assault while you all prattle on endlessly," Orifiel looked to Hanariel and Keesha, who seemed to already be aware of Orifiel's plan. They nodded in support as Trenton watched his mother rage with a fury he never thought her capable.

"L-Lady Whitedeer, what do you-" Romulus cautiously spoke as he was cut off by Kalecgos.

"You will do no such thing. We're already mobilizing an effort to-"

"To what? Go on endlessly back and forth and wait around forever for the other races to clean up a dragon-mess? And what a WONDERFUL track record you have, too! Was it Dragonkind who killed the Lich King? No! Illidan? No! The Aspect of Death? NO! In fact, as I recall, the blue flight was at war with the red while the scourge tore the world apart. You all were more than willing to put me, my mate, and the mortals here in harm's way, and NOW you talk about careful planning, of PRUDENCE? Fuck you and the wings you rode in on, the lot of you," Orifiel hissed, sending looks of shock, disbelief, and a myriad of indignant looks to the dragons' faces. Despite the insult, the room was starkly silent. Orifiel looked to her gaping son, then to the stunned-faced yet slightly smiling Steve, which made the orc slightly straighten in her sight.

"Steve, please come with me. Terronian…stay if with him if that is what you want. I will see to it that he's avenged as his mate, but that's not your responsibility." She paused and looked to Sabellian who knelt unwavering at his brother's bedside. "Lord Sablemane, please watch over him," Orifiel sighed as she found both a death night and her vengeance-ready son at her side.

"Lady Whitedeer, please. I need not say it, but Lord Nightgaze may not have much time left…he needs you by his side. Let us handle this," Alexstrasza called with sad experience in her eyes. Her own firm grip met Orifiel's defiant wrist.

She had lost so many consorts over the millennia, many of whom she could not console or even bid goodbye in their final moments. But the look she received from the night elf- formed dragon in her grasp nearly chilled the constant inner fire within. Orifiel wrenched her hand free and led her charge from the room. Though her face seemed to be filled with nothing but staunch determination, a small quiver in her wet eyes displayed the biting wave of sorrow as the three began preparing for their assault.

* * *

Maiev looked to the night sky with dim eyes. The stars had not changed much since the days of her childhood; and yet the scars-both seen and unseen-obscured their unfaltering shine as the sea wind whipped around her form. The tall branch she stood upon glowed with arcane brilliance, but somehow, was paled by the midnight majesty.

Though the tattered garb she wore since Illidan's demise was replaced by finely-crafted Shepherd plate, forged by gushing younglings with her hero's name on their ears, the burdens of her shattered mind threatened to crumple the elder from within. She had done much in the struggle to remain stalwart in her Watcher persona, solving crimes and battling evil whenever it showed itself in her judging vision.

But the specter's hold, only a tendril at first, rooted within and broke apart the sturdy frame and iron-fisted resolve like a thirsty willow-root. Despite the damage to her being, her senses were as nimble as they were when she still had violet tresses. The druid behind her, though as silent as death in his steps, approached with clumsy loudness in her perked ears.

"There's not need for that Furion. You were never a good shadow-walker," Maiev flatly spoke as she turned to meet Malfurion's amused face. He smiled, closed his golden eyes, and shook his head with a sigh.

"All the shadows in the world couldn't hide my steps from you, huntress."

"What is it you want?" Maiev asked as she turned away to continue her contemplative vigil of the stars. Malfurion straightened his garments a moment before gathering his words and ordering them behind his purple lips.

"Lady Whitedeer and Lord Nightgaze returned from Northrend…I'm afraid it's much worse than we thought. The Twilight influence has not only remained in Dragonblight, but a whole underground clutch was discovered in Icecrown. Lord Nightgaze…" Malfurion paused and lowered his head. "We may need to prepare a funeral pyre."

"Get to the point," Maiev curtly spoke with a spike in her voice's volume.

"Lady Whitedeer is preparing a force, an army to delve into the underground and fight the Twilight dragons and Dream knows what else. I…shall not be joining them."

"So why are you telling me all this, then?"

"I respectfully request you do the same," Malfurion spoke with a tone that made Maiev turn to face him once more, white brow raised.

"I had no intention of traveling there; but please, do explain why you think you have the authority to dictate my movements," Maiev slightly growled and crossed her arms as Malfurion looked to her with a pleading expression.

"You know that is not what I wish to do-"

"Then do not insult my intelligence with your friendly mockery. Get to the damn point or do not waste my time-"

"Maiev, you're corrupted!" Malfurion finally blurted. The action seemed to knock the wind out of them both. Maiev's expression shifted from shock of disbelief at the claim. She began to shake her when Malfurion began his explanation. "Something has warped your mind, dug into your spirit. I fear…we don't know what's down there, Maiev, and our people have already lost so many of our heroes to damnation. I have seen the manifest of your illness, and I know you are on the edge of loosing yourself too. Please, you can be helped."

"Oh, and so the great Furion Stormrage is going to fix me, then? How generous and self-sacrificing, helping the ones you detest," Maiev sneered as she swiftly glided past her old acquaintance, bumping him roughly on the shoulder.

"No, I will not. But _he_ will," Malfurion firmly spoke, causing Maiev to pause, wide-eyed as her feet stuck fast to their current spot. She turned with a murderous look glazed with the hint of shock and horror.

"You didn't."

"He came as fast as he could after he received my letter-" Malfurion found his words choked by a gauntlet-vice on his throat. He only took one step back, as the grip only tightened for a moment before going lax to a superficial grip.

"How DARE you? You presumptuous, pompous fool! Do you know what you've done?"

"Sister…" a voice softly but firmly called. The sound was like a knife in the former watcher's back. She slowly turned to see the aged face of her younger brother mournfully and gratefully staring at her. "That's enough," Jarod Shadowsong spoke as he took a step towards his mind-ravaged sister. Maiev felt her blood freeze as the stern-faced man, once a youngster in her sight, moved to stand with them in the shining night.

His keen vision easily overlooked the shadows that seemed to pulse through her form. The snide whispers of a foul specter met his ears but not his hearing. His silver vision brightened in her own dim sight. There was nothing but silence, save for the arcane wind before the leader of armies spoke.

"It has been far too long sister. You have much to scold me about."

* * *

Shandori felt the warm embrace of her frothy friend, who she so groggily referred to as "Mr. Booze" in the dwarven-owned pub where her drinking stein never seemed to run dry. She would occasionally blather about some crass gibberish that seemed as refined as a crystal goblet in her inebriated mind.

Christoffel sat to her right, exerting only a small margin more self-control as a faint blush started streaking across his cheeks. F-bomb shook her head with a crooked smile as the green-apple martini in her rough fingers seemed to grow light. Lumigosa sat in the next space, arms crossed and foot impatiently tapping at the strange and undignified display before her. Ima simply sighed and moved her empty water up towards the center of the table.

"You three…" Ima sighed as Christoffel hiccupped slightly following the action with a loud belch, causing Shandori and F-bomb to burst out laughing as if it were the funniest quip known to mortal kind. Though he excused himself as soon as capable, none of the most eloquent of words could excuse the action in the mind of the twitching, elf-bodied dragon.

"They are impossible! I cannot believe lady Kat left me in charge of these, these-AUGH!" Lumi hissed as she resisted every instinct to storm out of the recently rebuilt but still homey pub.

"Calm down, Miss Lumi. I mean…you sort of get used to it after a while," Ima sighed as F-Bomb called in a loud, obnoxious tone for another martini.

"Well, what are we going to do about Northrend?"

"Yes, I was hoping to discuss that with the others but…" Ima paused as Shandori began trying to make the dinner napkin in front of her into a flying device, "Yeah, that's not happening. What have you heard from your aspect, Lumi?"

"It's absolutely appalling. Lady Whitedeer said some…terrible things to Lord Kalecgos," Lumi shuddered, "Anyway, there seems to be two efforts forming, one among the dragonflights and one among the mortals."

"That doesn't make sense, mortals and dragons have always worked together in the past…or so I've read. Why is everything so disjointed now?" Ima blushed a little at her evident inexperience in Azeroth's major conflicts.

"I don't know… If what the others say about Lady Whitedeer's outburst is true…where does that leave us? I know 'lady' Shandori here is bound to the red flight and in their service and you, Lady Ation, are Lord Redmane's ward and all. But if we're not working together…I don't know," Lumi sighed with a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. It was then Shandori attempted to claim the conversation by banging her half-full stein on the table like a gavel. Beer sloshed onto the blood elf beside her, but he didn't seem to notice the ale-shower in his own state.

"ORDER…or-dur. Kay see, s'bout dis: we are gunna fight da thingsh that pay the-who pay us-gold. Best the gold! Haahaa kay? Dash how we gun do eet!" Shandori shouted as if that would make her words all the more clear. Lumi and Ima shook their heads from the sound before casting the night elf an incredulous look. It was then a shadow fell onto the table from the nearby entrance way.

"Sounds perfectly logical to me," the dark-haired human shrugged as he approached. Lumi cast the familiar form of Trenton a questioning look as he raised his finger briefly to his lips for her silence. He walked in between Shandori and Christoffel and rested his hands on the backs of their chairs. "I couldn't help overhearing. Are you all looking to join in an effort to kill some twilights, save the word, be brave heroes, and get chicks?" Trenton smiled.

"Gah, all buah t'lasht part. I dun swig dah way," Shandori shrugged as one of the barmaids brought her a new ale.

"What da he'lls the point of nearly getting killed if not ta get checks, err chicksh? I mean I became a pally back in da day ta get chickhs," Christoffel offered as he held up his stein before taking a drink.

"Waiiitda min-it…you joined a celibate ordah…ta get chicks?" F-bomb groggily asked with a raised brow. Trenton cut off Christoffel's mumbling answer as he continued his spiel.

"That'a boy. The name's Trenton and I work for Lady Whitedeer's initiative. We're looking to head out within the next two days, if you're interested in joining us. We need every able-bodied volunteer, Shepherd, or merc we can get," Trenton informed, speaking so that anyone within the pub who still bore the attention span to listen could hear and conjuring several fliers from inside his robe sleeves. Though the smaller print was fuzzy in Shandori's vision, the largely printed "1000 gold" retainer payout sparked in her foggy mind.

"Lady Shandori has an obligation to the dragonflights as do I, Terro-" Lumi felt her voice slashed from her throat by Trenton's glare. Though his eyes did not make the blue quite shudder with fright, he seemed to be his father's son. He coolly smiled and shook his head.

"Lumi, Lumi, Lumi…you're missing a golden opportunity here."

"I-I don't see how. I heard about what Lady Whitedeer said to Lord Kalecgos..."

"Yeah, boils you're blood doesn't it? It's because you're loyal to your aspect, right? You want to be his prime consort someday right?"

"Of course!" Lumi shouted a little louder than she intended. She slightly blushed and covered her mouth with a hand before nodding.

"Well, what better way than to prove your resilience and heroism than to go rogue in the name of justice and what not? You know guys find rebellious girls really fetching," Trenton slyly smiled.

"R-Really? No! It's a trick; you're just trying to get me to join Lady Whitedeer's madness. I will do no such thing," Lumi huffed and turned her nose up at the prospect. Trenton shook his head.

"Yeah, waita minoot. Lasht time we tooka job like dish, we ended up wirkin for a black dragun." Shandori squinted and turned her suspicious gaze to the even-tempered Trenton. He gave her a friendly but semi-scolding look.

"Miss, come now. Do I look like a black dragon to you?" Trenton asked with unblinking innocence in his deep-brown eyes.

"Nuh-no?"

"Of course I don't. Listen, there really isn't any pressure on any of you. If you want to help in the good fight, be at the south dock at sunset two days from today. We'll get you registered and everything then," Trenton spoke as he began placing flyers on ever table and clear counter space in the pub. Lumi watched with indignation and disapproval as the young dragon mage began to make his way to the exit. She pushed her chair back and stood.

"Please keep an eye on them, Lady Ation; I'll be back in a moment," Lumi respectfully asked as she left after the determined youth.

"Terronian, wait!" she called, nearly crashing into him as he abruptly stopped walking. He did not turn to face her as he asked what it was she wanted. Lumi paused for a moment, shaking her head and clearing her throat to speak.

"Why are you doing all this? We should be working together against the Twilights. What does your mother hope to accomplish by all this?" Lumi's words were met with silence for a moment as a bitter chuckle came from Trenton's smiling lips. He slowly turned to face her with pain, anger, and a smoldering hatred behind his usually tepid eyes.

"My mother slaved, worked, and accomplished all that those idiots wanted her to. We've done what they couldn't because they were too afraid of corruption or getting their claws dirty, and yet my parents fearlessly did what whole dragonflights couldn't. They constantly spit on us and yet expect us to be loyal lapdogs? I wasn't raised a dragon, Lumi, and it's always bothered me until now. I begged my father to let me join the new black dragonflight, and he would have let me try…but you know what? I don't want to join their little club. Now I know why my mother insisted I be raised as a mortal: dragons are retarded. Mortals, with all their weaknesses and flaws are going to win this thing, just like they always do," Terronian forcefully insisted as if trying to assure himself that his confidence was rightfully placed.

The few mortals that dwelled around the pub cheered, some even clapped at Terronian's words as his eyes went wide. He cursed for being so careless, but his rant did earn him a few more interested parties for his mother's ambitious plot. Lumi's eyes softened for a moment as she looked away.

"I-I did not know you were raised as a mortal…h-how could your parents be that cruel to deny you your heritage like that?" Lumi's quivering voice seemed to quell the heat in Terronian's chest as he let out a steamy sigh.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm a real sob story," Terronian paused to distribute a few more fliers to encouraging mortals, "But the black dragonflight would never accept a 'mongrel' like me anyway. Roxanne made that VERY clear," Terronian growled as he thought of his momentary tryst with the human-disguised black dragoness "Roxia" ending in harsh words and a permanent black-listing from the flight. "So I say screw them. After all this is done I'm changing my mortal form to Draenei, and I'll be getting me some tail of a different sort," Terronian grinned wide as fanciful thoughts of draenei dancing girls glided through his slippery mind. Lumi cast him a disturbed look and shook her head.

"If you say so," she cringed as thoughts of mating with mortals pierced her iron resolve, "I can't imagine spending a huge amount of time with them, let alone mating with them. Anyway, I-I'm sorry about what happened. I do want to help you, but Lord Kalecgos…"

"Doesn't need to know. Does that male honestly keep tabs on all his little ladies? If you get caught, just say the evil half-black dragon put a spell on you with his charm and devilishly handsome smile," Terronian grinned.

"I doubt anyone would believe that and you know it."

"H-Harsh!" Terronian feigned an arrow to the heart as the pair found smiles spreading across their faces. "Please think about it, ok?"

"I-I can make no promises, but I will leave that decision to the mortals. If my ward decides to follow your mother, then it would be my duty to join her and see that she is not harmed," Lumi reasoned. Terronian smiled through the haughty blue's softer tone as time drew ever closer to the reckoning in Northrend.


	39. Flea 39: Vessels of the Infinite Slayer

Sorry for the delays all. Got put on a big project at work and with 4.3's new info...I had to do some creative hole filling in the story. Enjoy.

Also, I have finally started posting my original, serial novel: **_The Red Thread Tapestry_** which is available on 's sister site, fictionpress. I'll attempt to put the link here, with spaces (since you're not allowed to put links here: www. fictionpress. net/~ oriwhitedeer. ) Check it out, and please leave a review (since that site is still stuck in the old reviews = good culture even if the reviews are all bad :P)

Anyway, on with the show...

* * *

**Straydog Saga**

Flea 39: The Caverns of Time: Vessels of the Infinite Slayer

* * *

It was well past noon when Shandori finally found the strength to open her reddened eyes. The stabbing sensation in her face was not the work of villainous daggers, but of the gentle rays of light coming from her humble room's small window. She had woken up earlier to rush to the privy, but found sleep was the only medicine she had for her harrowing state.

Shandori felt a warm form beside her as she stirred. The long, heavy sensation of an arm across her stomach and a head on her shirt-covered chest barely registered through the pain. She reached to the nightstand for a pain potion, but only succeeded in knocking the vial to the floor with a 'tink.' She moaned for a moment, moving her sluggish hand over her blushing face.

"SSSsshhhhhhiiiiit…" Shandori whimpered as she tried to adjust her breathing in an attempt to somehow lessen the throbbing in her mind. She looked down to the still snoring form at her breast with a small smirk. "Deaaaamon sucker…" she playfully hummed, pulling on a single one of his messy black hairs. "Waaaakie wakie," Shandori mumbled as she quickly pulled up, plucking the hair from Christoffel's head. When he did not stir, she repeated the process until the prickling pain finally caused his own dehydrated eyes to open.

"The hell….aaaauuuuhhhgg," Christoffel moaned as the stabbing rays of sun shot into his face. "Where am I?"

"My room, apparently."

"How did I….how much did we drink?"

"A lot."

"Y-Yes," Christoffel coughed as he began to realize the position he was in. A redness that was not the result of a night of drinking shot to his cheeks as he did his best to sit up. The sensation rocked his stomach, causing a small amount of bile to splash in his dry throat. Shandori moved to reach for the fallen vial of pain potion when she noticed a few crumpled and beer-stained papers on the side table.

With one hand popping the vial's stopper and the other gripping the paper, Shandori scanned the words written in bold face as quickly as her aching eyes would allow. The vague, hazy memory of the drunken day before brought the words back somewhat, but it took her three tried in her groggy state to truly discern their meaning.

"Chris, did we sign up for this, do you remember?" Shandori asked, passing the papers to her ailing companion. He took the leaflets with shaking fingers and did his best to comprehend the words before him. Despite the difficulty, the amount of gold per returning retainer came in as clear as clean glass.

"N-No, but it looks like we have 'til tonight to get well if we are going to…my brother will expect me to do something," Christoffel coughed as he rubbed the skin just above his fel-gemmed collar. Shandori's pain-filled eyes seemed to go beyond the residual hang over. They glazed with a bitterness that caused a small twinge of concern in Christoffel's chest.

"Should we have to at this point?"

"Hmm?" Christoffel gave her a questioning look as Shandori turned away with a small sigh.

"When this all started, it was only supposed to be a few jobs, some gold, and that's all. I never signed up for all this…heroism crap."

"Well, technically heroes do this for, you know, noble reasons. We'd still be doing it for the money. Your mercenary code shouldn't be violated," Christoffel chuckled with a wince as he motioned for Shandori to pass him whatever was left of her pain-relief potion. "After all that's happened, I'd rather…we sit this one out," Christoffel cringed at the memory of his failed fingers and Shandori's swift fall as he swallowed the small amount of liquid in a single gulp. The cool, thick liquid began to work its magic as Christoffel moved to change his shirt. Shandori's eyes lingered on the faded scars as memories of Moodglade threaded through her aching mind. She shook her head and smiled.

"Maybe…but it is a lot of money, if we survive. I mean, we've been lucky as hell so far; remember the time we got ambushed by those centaurs? Stupid, mangy animals nearly shot me in the face!" Shandori mused, causing Christoffel to give a smiling sigh.

"Yes, I remember that. Remember when we had that druidic crushing spell on us in that temple? If that priest wasn't there to dispel us we would have been crushed to paste."

"Yeah, and we wouldn't have added Ima the gnome-troll to our traveling freak show…things wouldn't have been as interesting, that's for sure."

"That's true."

"I mean, things can only get more interesting right?"

"If you say so…if I didn't know better I'd say you've already made up your mind." Christoffel spoke with a raised brow. His incredulous expression slowly shifted to a knowing smile as Shandori gave an admitting shrug. "I'll start sharpening my new daggers. Stupid things cut like butter knives," Christoffel informed as he pulled his boot over his foot. Shandori stood, stretched, and began folding the fliers before placing them in her shirt pocket.

"Alright then. Let's go get some food. We can't fight Twilights on empty stomachs."

* * *

"W-W-We're going to Dalaran!" Ima shrieked with breaths audible between her words. Her trembling knees seemed to be caused, not by the rocking ship's deck she stood on, but by some kind of inner terror. She nearly bumped into the long line of Shepherds, volunteers, and mercenaries that poured, one by one, onto ships bound for Northrend. F-bomb looked up to the trembling troll with a raised brow.

"Yeah, we need to through there to get to our formation grounds in Dragonblight. What's so bad about Dalaran? I thought ya studied there for a while."

"I DID and I DO, but not like THIS! What if my friends SEE me? Oh no, what am I gunna do? Herbert's not matured fully yet, and I can't make the potion I use to become a gnome…"

"Wait-a min-it. Yer friends never saw ya as a troll. They won't recognize ya like that, right?" F-bomb reasoned as Ima cringed.

"There is someone that will know. We're not on the best terms right now and, if he confirms his suspicions it's all over for me!" Ima trembled as memories of the young man she foolishly scorned in order to fall in line with her usual companions flooded her terrified mind. One memory displayed the evening when, In apology for a spell gone wrong in one of their classes, the young nephew of Romulus Redmane, Gawain Redmane, presented Ima with a hand-drawn picture of her sitting on a great turtle and fishing in the ocean. Ima's vision did not pick up the subtle reflection until just before her departure of a troll's face reflected in the choppy water.

"Well, why don't ya let Lord Redmane help ya out? I mean dragons take mortal form all the time. Maybe he can teach ya to do it yourself?" F-bomb offered only to receive a shaking orange head.

"Well, Lord Redmane doesn't exactly know I'm here, and dragon magic is crazy strong. I'd never be able to do that by myself!"

"She's right, you know: mortals can do much, but there are a few things well beyond your grasp," a third voice interjected. Coming up the ramp was an uncomfortable-looking Lumigosa. She walked over to where Ima and F-bomb stood and placed her belongings down with a huff.

"Miss Lumi, you decided to come?" Ima asked with surprise in her warm-ember eyes.

"After giving it some thought, and the fact that my beloved Kalecgos and the other aspects are STILL debating whether or not to even start planning a counter-strike, I decided that if the mortals are going to do something, you'll be needed all the help you can get," Lumi unassumingly spoke. The pair of mortals in her presence slightly cringed, but had spent enough time with the blue dragon not to take offence at her statements. "What about you, Ima? Does Romilstrasz know you're here?" Lumi asked, referring to Lord Redmane's true name.

"He knows…I bet he's chuckling to himself right now," Ima huffed as the trio moved away from the ramp are and closer to the cabin. Ima's eyes sparked for a moment as an idea popped into her mind. "Miss Lumi, you're a highly talented, beautiful, and intelligent blue dragon! Can YOU change me into a gnome when we get to Dalaran?" Ima whispered as a pack of strangers passed the trio. Lumi puffed up and crossed her arms.

"While I am all of those things, it would take an awful lot of my skills to change you into a gnome long-term. The most I can keep you in that form is for a few days at a time…"

"That'd work fine! Will you do it? Please, please, please?" Ima's eyes began to shine, begging with prostrate desperation for her potential savior to move in her favor. Lumi's eyes slowly rolled in thought before a sly smile came to her lips.

"I may be able to accommodate you, under one condition."

"What's that?"

"You will be my personal servant for the remainder of the trip." Lumi offered. Her smile rose as Ima's jaw dropped.

"Boy, that sounds familiar. You can't have her, she's already spoken for," Another voice came from around the ramp area. Walking towards the three were the familiar forms of Shandori and Christoffel. They carried very little with them save for their weapons, gold, and whatever armor was left over from their previous battles.

"Hey there you two. Was wonderin' when you'd show up," F-bomb spoke as she waved to the elf pair.

"Yeah, yeah, so what's this about stealing our troll?" Shandori asked with a raised brow. Lumi explained Ima's predicament, her ability to solve it, and her terms. Shandori crossed her arms with a frown for a moment before her lips did a sharp reversal.

"You know, I think I may be able to let Ima out of her debt a little early. You can have her for a while if you can do me a small favor, it would only take you a few seconds."

"Oh, and what's that?" Lumi asked as she watched Shandori point to the choker around Christoffel's neck.

"Get THAT off."

"Dori, I don't think that's a good idea, it's rigged to-" Chris began as his sentence was viciously cut off by Shandori's voice.

"Yeah, it's digging into his neck and looks really uncomfortable. There's some fel magic in the gem, and I'm REALLY worried it might drive him wretched. Think you can help?"

"Dori!" Chris hissed as the blue dragon walked closer to where he stood.

"Hmmm…" Lumi leaned forward and examined the necklace for a moment before smirking. She lifted her hands and closed her eyes. Christoffel felt the choker vibrate against his skin as the gem imbedded within began to glow bright red.

"S-Stop, it's going to-" Chris felt the choker break and clinched his eyes shut in preparation for the end. After a few seconds, he opened one trembling green eye. His shaking hands reached to feel un-exploded skin where the choker once tightly lay. He looked to Lumi who held the broken artifact in her soft-looking hands.

"That was child's play! May I have the troll now?"

"She's all yours. Have fun Ima!" Shandori laughed at the troll's look of utter dejection as she felt a pair of sharp green eyes fall on her person. She looked to Christoffel with sheepish eyes as Lumi, F-bomb, and a luggage-toting Ima walked into the cabin area and to their room. "What?"

"Why the hell didn't you say something? She could have blown my head off!"

"She might not have done it at all if she knew why you had that thing on. And you're welcome," Shandori hissed as she felt a night-time shiver run through her spine. "I'm heading in and grabbing some dinner, you coming?" Shandori cheerfully spoke. Christoffel's cold gaze caused the momentary bubbly-ness within Shandori to pop and sink.

"N-No. I think I'll walk around for a bit. Your little impulse has made me lose my apatite," Chris coughed, still visibly shaken, and apparently highly un-amused. Shandori gave a seemingly nonchalant shrug.

"Suit yourself. I'm not leaving any rations for you, just so you know," Shandori spoke with the hint of a joking tone to the pale-faced Christoffel, but his mood seemed to remain flat.

"I think I'll survive." Christoffel turned, without another word, and walked towards the bow of the ship. Shandori frowned and entered the cabin area where a small feast of bread and dried meat awaited her in the crowded dining area.

* * *

Christoffel looked to the moonlit sea with an inner current so tumultuous it made the churning ocean seem little more than a placid puddle. Though whatever awaited him and the others in Northrend would surely be terrible by his measure, the cause of his current state was far closer. As he leaned over the rail along the ship's left bow, the moon only served to remind him of Shandori's conniving vision, smug smiles, and arrogant tones. He nearly growled as he ran has hand over the spot along his neck where his fel choker once was.

While he was free from the constant threat of decapitation, the soothing green gem kept his hunger satiated and his nerves calm. He gave a small smile as the recent memory of Shandori's freeing wit seemed to chip away at his cracking wall of anger. The sound of clanking plate boots caused him to slowly turn. There, eyes that were like twin full moons met his, causing him to blush under the cover of darkness.

"Hey, Chris, you have a minute?"

"Sure," Christoffel shrugged as Shandori took her place beside him on the otherwise empty deck.

"I wanted to say sorry for what happened earlier. I didn't want to tip her off as to why you were wearing that thing, in case she refused to help," Shandori sighed with a guarded shine of guilt in her eyes. Christoffel shook his head.

"You don't need to…I guess part of me needed it kept on, the gem and all," Christoffel shrugged as the pair found an uneasy silence settling between them. The night wind was cool on their skin, but seemed incapable of soothing a growing discomfort. Neither seemed able to look the other in the eye as their vision rested on the black sea beneath them.

Shandori gave a small smile as she brushed a small piece of loose hair from her cheek.

"Well if you'd just stop sucking on demons, you wouldn't have this problem," Shandori gave a satisfied laugh as the blood elf beside her gave her a look that made her blood run cold. The slight amusement mixed with something that resembled abject misery seemed to crumple her playful attempt at a joke. "C-Chris? Look, you know I'm joking right?"

"Dori…" Christoffel's voice gave way as he rushed to return his wet vision to the blind sea. Thoughts of the woman beside him being torn apart by dragons, or old gods, or whatever horrors awaited them seemed to choke him as he bit back the emotions he refused to let her witness.

"Come on now, don't get all soggy on me," Shandori gave a nervous laugh as she moved to place her hand on his far shoulder. He could smell her scent, the sweaty, flowery scent he'd come to memorize on his person and nearly let the fear-filled tears spill. Though his memories still bound his heart, the great tragedy that was his life seemed swept away whenever she was near, smiling and raucous as he found her to be. He seemed incapable of holding his dammed up emotions in his fel-weakened state as he turned with vulnerability in his usually stone-wall of a face.

"Dori, we can't do this. We need to go back."

"W-What do you mean? I thought we agreed to go-"

"We did but…I-I can't," Christoffel's voice was cut short by the sound of creaking deck boards. From the shadows came several cloaked figures came from behind boxes and seemingly from the empty air. Christoffel stowed his emotions as Shandori turned and walked in front of her companion.

"Twilights…how did they get on board?" Shandori hissed as one in their number began to chuckle before addressing her words.

"Shandori Sagesmoke, your bilious actions and crass manner have gotten you far, but you and your companion have come far enough. You cannot be allowed to set foot off this boat, my kin and I shall see to that!" the figure's voice rang with a strange echo. Shandori drew her sword and took her light-weight shield from its place on her back as Christoffel poured deadly poison on his sharpened daggers.

"Is that right? Well I'm not in the mood for this shit. You want trouble, you got it!" Shandori shouted as she charged forward and delivered what should have been a decapitating blow, but her strong sword seemed to glide through the strange figure as if he was made of air. He turned to look at where the wound should have been and then back to his would-be slayer. He smirked with a glint of amusement in his eyes as Shandori took a shocked step back. "Wha-What the hell? What is this?"

"You needn't ask, just perish!" the figure hissed as his form twisted and swelled. One by one the other figures followed suit until a group of strange, metallic-looking dragonspawn stood before them.

"What are they?"

"They look like what my comrades in the Argent Crusade called 'infinite dragonspawn' but they can't be…" Christoffel informed with momentary confusion in his voice before his lips knowingly frowned.

"What! But I thought-" Shandori did not have time to finish her statement before their strange enemies were upon them. Christoffel did his best to incapacitate one of the dragonspawn, but the best took much longer to subdue than the common mortal.

"They should have ended with Murozond's death, but my brother accused my father of messing with the timeline or something…" Christoffel managed to inform as he finally got the casting dragonspawn under control.

"Well isn't that just peachy!" Shandori growled as she did her best to deliver harsh blows to her attackers, while using her shield to block their vicious spells. Despite their best efforts, Christoffel and Shandori found themselves outnumbered and easily overpowered by the murderous infinite dragonspawn.

Just as it seemed Christoffel would fall to a crushing blow to the back of the head, a great roar echoed in his ears. A large, purple panther pounced on the dragonspawn, biting and clawing at its face and neck. Christoffel leaped to his feet and out of harm's way to witness the heroic sight. Seemingly out of nowhere, four more rescuers came, effortlessly pushing back the onslaught with their shining weapons and armor.

As the panther continued its vicious assault, a thin, elf-looking woman in shining golden armor brought her great sword down upon the creature's neck, severing what Shandori's sword could not. Standing a bit back from the fray was a thin-bodied, red-haired human mage. While his body seemed willowy, the fire spells he loosed from his firm fingers seemed to strike the dragonspawn with the mass of a full-grown oak. Shandori watched as strong arrows broke through the scaled chest of her current attacker. She should see something biting at its hind quarters as the dragonspawn finally buckled. Shandori caught sight of her orcish rescuer, and gave the hunter and his tiger pet a thanking nod.

The last of the dragonspawn were dispatched by another human mage. The dark-haired, pale-skinned, and crimson-lipped beauty dispatched the offending dragonspawn with seemingly little effort as the others finished off their respective enemies.

When the battle was over, Christoffel rushed to Shandori's side, and did his best to quickly inspect and assess his companion's injuries before turning to see the five rescuers with less frantic eyes.

"Th-Thank you…I don't remember seeing you on board but, I'm glad you showed up. Otherwise…" Christoffel cringed and shook his head.

"The question is why were they after us? Don't they go after, I don't know, more important people?" Shandori shook her head, looking to the five heroes before her for any hint of an answer. The five looked to one another then looked around the scene as if waiting for someone else to arrive. Shandori's eyes went wide for a moment before she turned to Christoffel.

"Hey, wait a second…don't these things usually end up with people from the future coming to help out people in the past who get attacked by these things?"

"You know, you're right…" Christoffel confirmed, based on what his old comrades mentioned about their exploits in the Caverns of Time, as the five heroes suddenly seemed rather uncomfortable in their gaze.

"Where is that annoyingly useless little dragon?" the female mage leaned and quietly hissed to the red-haired mage. Her only reply was a shrug.

"Whoa, so people from the future actually came back in time to save our sorry asses, eh? So what do I end up like? Queen of the universe or something? No wait, the old gods take me over and I go insane berserker and kill a bunch of people? How about I rob from someone and they imprison me for 1000 years, then when I get out I kill someone who saves the world? Or maybe I save the world and stop the end of days?" Shandori excitedly speculated, which seemed to make the blood elf beside her crack a smile. The orc hunter gave an annoyed sigh as the black-haired mage brought her palm to her angry-eyebrowed face. The red-haired mage placed a calming hand on her shoulder as the purple panther shifted into his true form to speak.

"Nah, it's nothing like that…"

"Shhh! Allorian we can't tell them anything!" The paladin hissed as she continued to avoid eye-contact with the mercenary pair, despite having a masking helm to hide her features.

"Well when you-know-who finally does show up, he'll wipe their memories anyway, right? Isn't that how this works? We might as well have a little fun while we wait." the cheery-voiced druid, called Allorian by his fellow hero, reasoned. "I mean it's not like we can screw up the timeline anymore than it already is…"

"You mean Han was right? My father, err, Hollus Fenweaver did tamper with things?" Christoffel asked, eyes looking to the open-lipped druid for an answer.

"Sir, you have no idea the damage Hollus Fenweaver did. We're just finding out about it in our time. A lot of stuff that should have happened after Deathwing's demise didn't, and the bronze dragons are trying to clean up the mess," the druid sighed. Shandori felt a small shiver run through her as the young druid's mannerisms sparked a hint of familiarity.

"A fine job those fools are doing…" The black-robed mage sneered, "They can't even show up expediently to finish what they contracted us to do!"

"Calm down, dear. We completed our task. I'm sure they'll make it worth our while," the red-haired mage spoke with a soothing tone that did seem to diminish the other mage's bile. Shandori felt the nagging feeling start to flow to her questioning lips as Allorian turned to give her a mischievous smile.

"You look really, REALLY familiar kid. Do I know you? I mean, there's no right way to take this, but: part of me wants to hug you, the other wants to punch you in the face," Shandori admitted, causing a booming laugh to erupt from the young druid. The golden-armored paladin gave a sigh and shook her head.

"You haven't changed a bit, auntie D. I mean, you got OLD and everything, but pretty much the same," Allorian snorted. Shandori's eyes went wide for a moment as she watched the druid proudly pose, doing his best to settle on an angle as her mind worked.

"You-You're my sister's kid?"

"Yeah that's me. Kinda followed in mom's paw prints as you might have guessed," Allorian smugly smiled.

"Does your dad still hate me?"

"Oh, only…a lot, but that doesn't stop us from meeting; whether father is AWARE of our visits is really irrelevant," Allorian winked. Shandori felt an odd sense of corruptive pride swell within as a golden hue shown in the scene, followed by a strange burst of light overtook the scene. Shandori and Christoffel found themselves in a strange fog, as the present and events of the recent past began to drain away from their memories. A small, frazzled-looking, white-haired female gnome appeared, and dusted off her robes before approaching the group.

"Ah, I see our mercenary friends are still alive. I'm sorry for the delay, heroes. I got a bit tangled in the loose ends," the gnome, known to his mortal friends as the female gnome 'Chromie' informed.

"It's about time. Any longer and Allorian would have told them everything," the paladin whispered, giving the young druid a sharp look beneath her helm. The druid called Allorian presented the young woman with the tip of his tongue before turning to face back to the disguised bronze dragon.

"Now, now, no harm done, Lady Rhia; I'll just wipe their memories of your presence and hopefully everything should be fine. Those troublesome infinite dragons did interrupt a…critical moment, but I'm sure the flow of time will create a proper situation to correct things…"

"Oh?" the paladin asked, brow raised beneath her helmet. Before Chromie could find the words to answer, the orc hunter spoke up.

"What about our payment?" the orc hunter less-than-tactfully reminded. Chronie's eyes went wide in recollection as he began rummaging though his bags.

"Of course, you may choose from these rewards for your epic deeds," Chromie offered, pulling several large items from his too-small satchels. As the others claimed their prizes, the young paladin looked to the two, still-dazed elves with a sigh.

"So what was so important in this moment? What did the infinite dragons interrupt?"

"Oh um…this was the moment Christoffel was supposed to tell Shandori how he felt about her. It was a long time coming but, you know how he can be when it comes to being honest about this sort of thing," Chromie spoke, eyes checking the paladin for any signs of damage or disappearance. The young woman seemed to only stare at the brigand-elves as she looked to her own fine, hero-earned attire and smiled.

"Those two…" She shook her head and turned to claim her own set of plate bracers for a prize.

"There's a lot they didn't tell you, eh?" Allorian softly asked as he placed a shiny new emerald ring on his strong-looking finger.

"I guess they just wanted me to see them as heroes, not money-hungry mercenaries," the paladin shrugged.

"Well, Lady Rhia, life changes people. Sometimes they need a damn good reason to change," The red-haired mage offered as his eyes slowly moved to rest on his dark-robed lover. She crossed her arms at the motion and turned away with a half-hearted huff. "I'd say you were, ehhhh, good enough, maybe?" A muffled laughing sound came from beneath the paladin's helm as she moved to remove the stuffy object. Long, ebony hair spilled out onto her splendidly adorned shoulders. She gave the mage a bright smile as her pale blue eyes, touched only by the chaste magic of a paladin, shined in the blackened sky.

"Thanks, Gawain; you really know how to make a girl feel good about herself," Rhia spoke with a hint of sarcasm in her usually straight-laced voice.

"At your service, Infinite Slayer!" Gawain smirked with an over-done bow, which caused his lover to roll her eyes and turn her attention to the gnome-bodied dragon.

"At any rate, we should leave. Let them get back to…resuming their business." The black-robed mage looked with commanding eyes to Chromie, who was not swayed by her perceived sense of authority, but nodded in agreement. Once the party members claimed their payments, Chromie pulled them from the scene with a snap, leaving the pair of elves to wake from their state, none the wiser.


	40. Flea 40: Who Wants to Live Forever?

**Straydog Saga**

**Author Note:** Another year down! Have a happy, safe new year everyone! I did my best to get this done for new years eve, so my usual, super-generous saint of a beta reader and editor hasn't gotten the chance to look at it yet. Any spelling errors and typo-o's will be fixed retro-actively. To that nice person who left me a marriage proposal in their last review: Take me out to dinner first, sweetie. ;)

* * *

Flea 40: Who Wants to Live Forever?

* * *

Setharion felt himself drowning in madness. The thick, gelatinous purple liquid churned around his mind-prison as the elder dragon struggled to keep himself afloat. As his physical form lay motionless in a Mydrassil bed, his spirit seemed to struggle to survive an assault by madness itself.

His talons reached to grasp onto something, some semblance of sanity or sense of self, but there was only stale air to meet him. With a snarling roar, Setharion kicked as hard as he could, sending himself far enough from the violet mire for his wings to unfurl. Despite their majestic span, there was no ocean wind to lift him and the great push only served to sink him father.

"I-I will not!" Setharion grunted as his maw dipped beneath the churning deep, causing him to taste the foul insanity. The burning liquid caused him to gag. His flailing talons managed to steady themselves and slash the water beneath, propelling him forward. His hazy vision caught a spec on the horizon: a towering structure that seemed to pierce the sky fay beyond the limits of what his eyes could take in.

With all the strength he could muster, Setharion swam, and swam, and swam for what seemed like an age. The towering structure did not seem to move, but Setharion felt no closer as he struggled to remain on the surface of the maddened purple water. He could feel something brush up against the pads of his talons, causing his eyes to widen in understanding and his legs to work faster.

The coiling things, which flailed and snaked from the ocean floor, seemed to move with purpose towards the black dragon. With a strained snort, Setharion kicked and slashed at the grasping tentacles as they weaved and evaded his strikes with seeming effortless ease.

"You shall not CLAIM ME!" Setharion roared as a few of the grasping tentacles moved to snare his hind quarters. Setharion felt himself halted as the terrible tentacles started dragging him under. He took a massive breath as he felt the water overtake him, little light piercing the violet ocean below. Sethation twisted and clawed, doing his best to bend far enough to cut himself free.

With four successive slashes of his razor-sharp talons, the agents of corruption relinquished their grasp with a sickening hiss. With a gasp, Setharion returned to the surface, and resumed his desperate swim towards the endless mountain.

When it seemed he finally covered some distance in the mad sea, a voice began to take hold of his mind that was not his own.

"Futile, your efforts are futile…" It calmly hissed. Setharion snarled and closed his eyes a moment. "We shall take care of you. Stay your movement, let us claim you…"

"Get out of my mind!" Setharion demanded as he focused his vision on the mountain ahead. The strong peak, the obsidian stone, and the shining reflection served to settle his shifting mind as the voice grew louder.

"Succumb! Your death is imminent. We can grant you eternal life, a life that will be taken if you return to the waking world. The Aspects will lose their power; you will lose your immortality. We can stay your fate!"

"Silence! You speak lies," Setharion roared.

"Then…if you will not join us willingly…" the voice coyly stated. Setharion's heart sank as great, barbed tentacles came from the sea and began coiling around the sturdy black mountain. Stone by stone the structure crumbled, torn to pieces by the agents of corruption until the hallmark of stability in the terrible sea was nothing more than memory.

"N-No." Setharion's trembling talons began to shake from fatigue. The symbol of sanity was stripped away as the giant tentacles began to twist and flail until they seemingly found their target. Setharion pushed himself up, concentrating and gathering a great fireball in the pit of his maw, and prepared to face his mind's ending. He loosed the fireball with all his remaining strength, but the attack seemed to little more than singe the giant tentacles.

Just as the agents of madness moved to strike, Setharion was blinded by a golden light. The ball of light, as brilliant as the sunwell itself, fell into the scene like a setting sun. Beams of light shot from the light-ball like arrows, tearing into the massive tentacles until they sunk, shredded into the maddening abyss.

The waters themselves seemed to steady in the presence of the golden being as Sethation found he needed less effort to keep his head above water. When the light finally dimmed and Setharion's sight returned the sight of a human made of the light itself met his vision. The human-seeming being, who introduced himself to the High Mystic Keesha Hazzad as 'Net' smiled to the struggling dragon as he began to let his form unravel.

Setharion watched as the light-bathed being swelled to enormous proportions. When the transformation was complete, a great dragon made of light, glistening stone, and clouds hovered just above Setharion, whose eyes recognized the face he had imprinted on in his whelp-hood.

"Father? I-It cannot be…" Setharion weakly spoke as the strange light-dragon cast him a sad smile.

"It can, and it is, my son. Thanks to you and your mate, my spirit is cleansed but bound to the Mystic Tree," The dragon, formally known as Neltharion and then Deathwing informed.

"T-Then it worked? The roots stripped the corruption from your remains?" Setharion asked, mind momentarily turning to the small, secret shrine within the Tangled Canal.

"Yes. No old god or ambitious cultist can use them for their foul purposes ever again. My mind, my very essence is cleansed of the madness that gripped me for so long; the same madness that seeks to claim a new champion. While this revelation may seem important, I am here on a more urgent errand," the cleansed spirit of Neltharion sadly sighed. A silence passed between them as Setharion felt a cold sensation grip his chest.

"Father, deliver me from this fate! I cannot become corrupted. My children…my mate, I cannot fail them! Heal me, father. H-Help me!" Setharion spoke with desperation and fear never heard outside the fortress that was his mind. Neltharion sadly shook his head.

"My son, my noblest of children, who resisted my evil, vile taint for so long…though you have done much for me, there is little I can do to save you in the manner you wish to be saved. I am afraid, your only salvation can be found in the light-"

"NO, NO, NO! I cannot perish! It can't end this way! I will not let it!" Setharion roared, angrily kicking about in the water, finding nothing solid to punish for his current predicament.

"I fear this is not in your control. It is by Mydrassil's power and the flows of broken fate that we are afforded this moment. I can pull you from the madness; take you away from this place…"

"What of my family? Ori, Terro, Inge…they will be alone with those fools, those small minded fools. How can I leave my mate to an eternity of alienation and loneliness? There must be another way! Pull me from the waters and we shall fly back to them!" Setharion's voice broke as his ability to keep swimming seemed to wane.

"My son, do you realize where you are?"

"In the twilight realm, this must be their foul dimension!" Setharion grunted in frustration. Neltharion gave a sad sigh before speaking.

"No, dear child. We are not in the twilight realm. We are in your own mind."

"W-What?"

"It is all that is left. Your consciousness is all that remains free of the twilight taint. If you were to awaken, it would only be a matter of moments before the poisons that have claimed your body would claim your mind as well," Neltharion snorted as he cast a beam of light to a slithering tentacle just below the surface of the water. "Though it will not be long until the waters of madness take you despite my intervention."

"Then…I have already failed them," Setharion said with a hollow pang in his words. Neltharion closed his eyes and seemed to take a deep breath.

"My son, I shall risk my very essence in telling you this, but if it is what I must do to save you from your fate: then to oblivion with me!" Neltharion nodded and looked his son square in the eye. Setharion felt his breath catch in his throat as his father began speaking.

"There is a plan; the threads of fate have already been pulled for you and your mate. Your lives have been filled with misery and duty, little time for anything other than unrewarding toil. The holes in time, forged by Hollus Fenweaver, as dreadful as they are, have facilitated your rebirth, and hers. With this blessing, there is a price however. You will never know yourself or of this life. You will not know your mate as she is now, but you will know one another's love. You must listen and accept the gift I present to you. Please, Setharion, it is your only option save madness," Neltharion humble and patiently pleaded.

Setharion let out a defeated cry. He closed his eyes and shook his head, as if desperately trying to rid himself of the nightmare. A grave sense of loss and despair rose in his trembling form, as all that he'd worked for, all joy and happiness, however small, seemed to grow distant and fade into nothing. Then, softly and clearly, the image of his beloved managed to appear through the corruptive waters and painful memories. Setharion steadied himself and looked to his father with watery vision.

"Is she…will she perish alone? Will she curse me in her final breath?" Setharion nearly whimpered in the closest thing to a pained sob a dragon could manage.

"That I cannot know, I am not the steward of time, after all, but from what I have seen through the mystic tree's influence…I highly doubt it will be the case," Neltharion softly informed. Setharion bobbed in the choppy water as the sensation of a tugging current came to his lower body.

"If you deceive me, I will find a way to make you suffer for your treachery!" Setharion asserted as he lifted a talon from the churning sea. Neltharion sadly smiled as he reached for his fallen son, gently grasping the younger's unsteady talon. The inner light radiating from Neltharion began to pulse as the violet sea seemed to scream in desperation, tugging futilely on its captive.

When the light reached its peak, Setharion found himself blinded once again, though unlike before there was no pain, no confusion or sense of dread. There was no sea, no sound, and no sights. There was only the light and the pulling of time's fickle threads.

* * *

Gawain Redmane, Romulus Redmane's nephew and arguable bane, woke with gasp-inducing heat in his chest. His gold-tinted, hazel eyes shot open as the smell and wet sensation of salty sweat entered his senses. The human-bodied, red dragon quickly sat up and, upon placing a trembling hand over his chest, realized that his night robes, as well as his bed sheets were covered in his night-terror residue. He pulled back several drenched locks of his long, ruby-colored mane and attempted to slow the rapid thumping in his chest.

The nightmare still scraped at his young mind, but the details seemed to quickly recede the more awake he became. The muddled water, terrible gripping appendages, and vague burst of light were all that remained of the horrible dream as the misfit dragon mage swung his long, thin legs over the edge of the bed and began conjuring a glass of water.

A shifting on the other side of his bed caused the student to look over his shoulder and quicken his bright-fingered casting. He let out a soft sigh as his bedfellow stirred.

"Hmm, wha? Gawain? Wha are you doin' 'wake? Why's the bed all wet?" The sultry woman with long, black hair and pouty lips sleepily asked while rubbing a fallen eyelash from her left eye.

"I had an intense dream."

"Mmmm? What about?" the pale-skinned human woman asked in a voice still half-stuck in the throes of peaceful slumber.

"I...I can't really remember, at all actually," Gawain admitted as his mind tried to grasp at the last lingering images as they seemingly faded into the unreachable depths of his dreaming mind. "All I know is that is scared the fireballs out of me."

"Well, we're awake now. Whhhhhat time is it?" the woman asked, looking to the window for an answer. The sight of a light-touched pre-dawn and the sound of waking birds met her ears as Gawain took a huge gulp of water.

"Nearly dawn. It's alright; I'm wide awake now anyway. Might as well get up and get ready," Gawain sighed and stood to stretch his thin, gangly frame. When he heard a pop in his spine and felt the satisfied rush come, Gawain smiled and turned to look to the woman whom he had shared a bed, or sometimes nest, with for the past three years. He felt something spark within, as warmth began radiating across his entire form. The woman in his bed raised a brow as the shine in his eyes entered her sleepy, but still sharp perception.

"What are you looking at?" She said with a playful, mock-surly tone. Gawain smirked, eyes still shining with purely sensual intent, as he quickly moved to his mate's side. He chuckled a little, as his face came close enough to kiss his beloved on the forehead. "Gah, get off me, you stink! Take a bath." She weakly fought the sweaty assault as her younger beau persisted.

"I love you so much, you know that right?" Gawain softly asked with a mixture of affection, longing, and sheer bliss in his eyes. His bed fellow's eyes became suspicious as she slightly jerked backwards from his sight.

"A-Are you feeling well or do you want something?"

"I'm feeling wonderful right now. My uncle is 1000 leagues away, I'm alive, and I have the most beautiful female in the world in my bed. I have everything a humble male could ever ask for," Gawain whimsically spoke.

"Aauuugh, where's my toothbrush? My teeth are rotting," Gawain's lover reactively gagged. Despite the cold action, her defenses were window glass in his piercing eyes. As Gawain moved to tickle her human-formed vulnerable spots, his lover finally submitted to the warmth and bliss that seemed palpable in the morning air.

"Ok-Ok stop! You win! STOP-HAHAHHAHA!" Gawain's red-faced mate desperately reached for one of her firm pillows and proceeded to strike her lover about the head. Gawain finally relented and all memory of the dreadful dream seemed completely forgotten.

"Uhhg, now I'm awake. It's the weekend, why am I awake at the rump-crack of dawn on a weekend, you little freak?" Gawain's mate moaned as she attempted to slink back under the plush, Dalaran-violet covers. Despite her best efforts, the salty smell of her lover's acrid, human-disguise-facilitated sweat forced her to the waking world once again. She looked to Gawain, who was preparing himself for the bath, and smiled.

"What are YOU looking at?" Gawain mockingly spoke with an excessively boyish tone.

"A scrawny, immature, red-scaled doodler," she shot back with a slightly upturned nose.

"Yeah, well, you picked me."

"…touché," Gawain's mate conceded as she rose and began stripping the sweat soaked sheets from the bed.

"Isn't that your apprentice's job?" Gawain asked as he tossed his sweaty night robe into a small hamper near the bedroom door. He couldn't help but smirk at the mental image of the young human mage, employed by his lover and who often gave Gawain's human persona a hard time, diligently doing his mate's dirty work.

"He's on break, if you've forgotten. With this new…assignment I'm unsure if I'll even be returning to work in time for the next semester. I've fallen way behind on my research as it is," Gawain's lover sighed.

"Are you sure that isn't a blessing? I mean, we won't have to perform for the masses as much as usual. So long as my father insists on making me play the part of a student… Plus we won't have uncle jackass breathing down our throats either." Gawain grunted as she shook the unpleasant thought of his uncle from his consciousness.

"Here I thought you red dragons all held talons and sung love-songs. And I don't consider battling mad dragons a blessing, but I see your point. At least you'll be safe here until I return."

"Oh I have no intention of letting you go alone."

"Gawain we discussed this. Your uncle wouldn't-"

"To hell with the self-righteous, haughty bastard," Gawain shouted with an intensity rarely seen from the young, red dragon. His lover felt her body frozen, almost captured by the intimidating stair, as a rare rush of cold raked against her spine.

"Ga-Gawenostrasz, what's gotten into you?" she asked with surprise in her usually solid voice. Gawain himself could not explain the intense feelings rushing into his mind, but the instinct to protect his lover seemed to overtake the usual submissive tone he often displayed in her presence.

"You will NOT leave this place without me at your side, Holly. If anything happens to you…" Gawain's voice, though firm at the start, collapsed under the influence of his bleeding, romantic heart.

"I am Hollyxia, broodling of Lord Wrathion, eldest child of the untainted black flight, and red dragon conqueror extraordinaire! No Twilight dragon or any other force of the old gods will take me down," the sensual, human-bodied dragon, who called herself Hollyxia, confidently spoke as she moved to stand in front of her de-robed lover. She placed a soothing hand on his cheek, seemingly wiping away the terrifying gaze that shot from his eyes like piercing arrows. All that remained in his twin-hazel eyes was fear and trepidation.

Neither knew the fates of their previous existence, nor of the carefully pulled threads in time that allowed their second birth before their former selves' deaths, but the fear and dread seemed to provide an unnoticed clue. Gawain pulled her to him and buried her face in her fragrant shoulder, moving slightly to kiss her soft neck. Hollyxia felt herself flush a little at the touch as her resolve escaped with a hissing sigh.

"If you feel so strongly, you may follow me into battle-but you better not get in my way or I'll cut you down with my foes! Then I'll have a nice new pair of ruby dragon boots, and perhaps a hand bag, a matching coat, maybe a nice hat-" Holly shrieked as her mates tickle-assault seemingly resumed. After a few moments of playful banter the pair found themselves in the lavish bath, washing away the remnants of the night and all that remained of their previous, tragic existence.

* * *

"For the last time, you look FINE," Shandori grunted as the tiny figure beside her continues huffing and occasionally inspecting her gnomish person.

"Are you sure? Is my hair too orange? Are my teeth too big? Are my fingers too fat!"

"NO!" the small group collectively shouted, earning them a few scolding looks from passersby. The streets of Dalaran were in their usual bustling state as students finishing their break cram courses and tourists went about their business. The group had passed through the Borean Tundra without incident as their fellow would-be dragon slayers amassed in the magical city.

The Sunreavers and Silver Covenant alike were mobilizing, only a few remaining soldiers stayed to guide the Shepherds and other volunteers to their various forming grounds. The group of baggy-eyed travelers got in a long line in front of the Silver Covenant agents' table to receive further instructions.

"I wonder where they'll be sending us…" Lumigosa mused as she inspected the rag-tag force with a haughty stair.

"I dunno but ah, the word on the boat was we'd be sent to one of four places," F-bomb shrugged.

"I see, were any names mentioned?" Lumi asked as she looked to the goblin shaman beside her.

"Nothing specific, but we could be sent to south east Icecrown, near one of the old Argent camps, as far down as southern Dragonblight. It all depends…"

"Wherever we end up, I just hope we get shit done and get back to our lives," Christoffel grunted, his fel-deprived nerves seemed to irritate every spot of flesh on his slightly shaking form. He felt a warm hand on his shoulder as he turned to see Shandori looking to him with what seemed like concern. Christoffel nearly bit back the instinct to recoil from the friendly touch as he did his best to steady his breathing. "I'm fine."

"Hey, after this we can go get you a demon sandwich or something, sound good?" Shandori smirked. Christoffel took a deep breath as he let it escape along with an honest laugh.

"S-Sounds wonderful, but it'd have to be a little sandwich; trying to cut back," Christoffel responded with his best attempt at a smile.

"That's the spirit. There's about fifteen people in front of us now. We're almost done," Shandori assured. Soon enough the group stood before the Silver Covenant agents who asked for the strange group's names before taking a moment to look up from their long lists. One of the agents cast her brilliant blue vision to the blood elf in her sight and squinted.

"What do you think you're doing here?" She hissed in Christoffel's direction, causing the soldier beside her to cast a questioning look before turning his own blue vision to the small group standing just in front of the Silver Covenant assignment table. "Your table is on the other side of town."

"Hey lady, the blood elf's with us, no need to be rude, you know?" Shandori snorted, and quickly motioned to the papers lying idle on the table. "Name's Shandori. The gnome is Ima Ation, the goblin is Fab-Fabizzle-"

"Fabrizzia Bomberlock…" F-bomb frowned.

"Y-Yeah, Fab-rizzle Bomberluck. The human is Lumi and the blood elf is Christoffel Stingblade. How about you make with the assignin' already. We got a long line behind us," Shandori asserted while pointing a thumb behind her. Some of those who stood behind the group seemingly grumbled in support. The female high elf snorted.

"As you wish..." The high elf spoke, muttering something that sounded like a concealed insult in Shandori's keen hearing. She leaned forward and slapped her open, plate-gloved palms on the table causing both agents to jump a little and the ones standing behind them to reach for their weapons.

"You wanna start something, bitch? I'm not in the mood, alright? I mean, let's all be honest here, as a night elf I'd spit on your pink-skinned, blue-eyed ass too. What right do you have to say shit about him-"

"How dare you speak to me that way!" the female shouted in outrage as she moved to stand.

"Come on, come at me, twig!" Shandori shouted back, moving her arms out and to the side, welcoming a conflict with the woman who insulted her companion. The male at the table grabbed his co-worker's wrist before she could fully stand and reach for the sword at her hip and pulled her back down.

"Dori, it's not worth it. Let's let them do their job and get that sandwich afterwards, alright?" Christoffel softly spoke, pulling Shandori back and away from the table.

The male high elf looked to Christoffel then back to his paper for a moment with a blush. He returned his rosy vision to the remains of a handsome face that seemed somewhat familiar, though the blue eyes and blonde hair that used to adorn Christoffel's visage was long gone.

"Look if my name isn't on your list, I'll try my luck at the Sunreaver…what?" Christoffel asked with a slight uncomfortable chill running through him. The amorous look on the blue-eyed male elf's face made his skin crawl.

"Nothing, you just happen to resemble someone I used to know of…" the elf spoke as his vision slowly returned to the papers in front of him. As his eyes traveled, the name 'Stingblade, Christoffel' appeared with a star beside of. The high elf's vision traveled to the legend at the bottom of the page, looking for the footnote associated with the star. When his eyes took it in the information his heart seemed to skip a beat. The agent beside him cast him a questioning look as his vision rested back on the uncomfortable-looking blood elf.

"I-It can't be…Lord Dawnblade?" the young high elf asked with hope in his eyes. The shocked and exposed look in Christoffel's eyes was answer enough for the beaming young agent. "Sir, w-we do need to process you quickly but, if it isn't too much trouble, I'd like to speak with you before your group reports to your respective areas. Ledgermain Lounge at noon?" the male elf quickly spoke as he quickly found the other names before him and gathered their reporting notices.

"Um, s-sure?" Christoffel looked to Shandori who shrugged in response. Once the group received their instructions and moved to a somewhat less-crowded part of the sidewalk, they hastily unrolled their carefully prepared scrolls, eyes hungrily devouring their respective fates.

"I'm in Battalion 15-IC, bound for the Ice Crown formation grounds. I gotta report ta Chief Shepherd Violetina tomorrow mornin' How about you guys?" F-bomb asked, folding her scroll and placing it in her side back. Lumi shook her head with a sigh.

"I'm in Battalion 35-DB, on reserve. I guess they got more volunteers than they know what to do with. I'm to report to Wy-Wyrmrest Temple! Oh I'm in SO much trouble," Lumigosa whined.

"I'm in Battalion 9-DB-FA…I need to report to Trenton Crowise at Star's Rest tomorrow an hour before dawn," Shandori shrugged.

"Me too…" Ima and Christoffel spoke in unison.

"Well shit, it looks like we'll all be split up," F-bomb said with a slight hint of disappointment in her tone. She felt a strange pull in her chest as she thought about the wild and dangerous times she'd spent with Shandori and her weird group of random degenerates. The memories she'd gathered in her time with them, had all but replaced many of the painful memories of her loveless mothering days. "You kid's aren't allowed to get hurt, ya hear me? I don't need to be goin' ta no more funerals."

"Nah, us? We're too full of bitterness, bile, and angst to die, right?" Shandori smirked as she nudged Christoffel with her elbow. He grunted at the thought as the rumbling in his stomach seemed to overtake any discomfort the moment before brought.

* * *

The Ledgermain Lounge was bustling when Shandori and Christoffel stepped through the northern entrance. A frantic hostess, desperately looking for a spot to place another set of customer, looked to the pair and asked how many was in their party. Having shed a few members due to sight-seeing and other pre-battle prep needs, Shandori spoke the word 'two' and held up two fingers, in case her voice was lost in the noisy space. The hostess smiled as her vision caught a freshly-cleaned table towards the far end of the dining area.

"What sort of food do they have here? You ever eat here, Chris?"

"A few times, back when I was in the Silver Covenant. The food's decent," Christoffel shrugged while opening the menu which hadn't changed since his eyes were blue.

"I-I didn't know you were with the Silver Covenant. I didn't threaten to beat on old friend of yours did I?" Shandori said with a slight hint of worry in her eyes. Christoffel looked to the night elf sitting across from him and gave a small smile as he shook his head.

"No, no. I don't have any friends there anymore. I suppose I never really talked about it much with you but, it's not really something I talk about so…"

"It's alright. I know you don't like talking about emotional crap, especially not with, you know, a merc buddy," Shandori gave a hollow laugh and a small, equally empty smile as she lifted the menu up to hide the slight blush that was coming to her face. Christoffel's eyes shifted with a hint of guilt as he moved to speak.

"It's not that Dori…I just did a lot of things I'm not proud of since shit happened and, well I know you wouldn't care but, it…I just-I can't," Christoffel huffed in defeat. It was then the shadow of a well-groomed and handsome young elf fell over the table.

"Lord Dawnblade, Narlyn Dawnblade is it really you?" The deep, admiring voice asked. Christoffel turned to cringe in the shining vision of the Silver Covenant agent who had asked for the meeting earlier in the day.

"'N-Narlyn', really?" Shandori sniggered with a rise of her indigo eyebrow. Christoffel felt his palm move to his forehead as if it was more instinct than conscious action.

"Uhhhgh, yes. Do I know you?" Christoffel's menu-muffled voice groaned as the gorgeous male pulled a seat from a recently abandoned table over to their and sat.

"No sir, but I've heard of you and your brothers' valiant deeds during the war against the Lich King. I was there too but I was far too insignificant to warrant a meeting with you. Oh I am a huge fan!" The young elf gushed, voice cracking with youthful, if not slightly lustful worship.

"Ohh, this is the first I'm hearing about this. What all did the great NAR-lyn do, uh, what's your name?" Shandori asked. The elf proudly perked up and gave a slight, sitting bow before replying.

"My name is Flavius Sunspark, at your service, my lady."

"Of course it is…" Christoffel quietly mocked.

"Nice to meet you Flavius. Please, do go on," Shandori implored, casting a sideways glance to the blood elf who seemed to be looking for some means of escape. Flavius went on to describe Christoffel, then known as Narlyn Dawnblade's, grand exploits through Icecrown. Shandori felt herself occasionally gasp at a few of the claims, as time and again the nearly sparklingly, chipper young man spoke of her roguish companion bravely and heroically facing evil and triumphing over it in the name of the light.

"…his name is legend among many younglings like me but, sir, what became of you? What happened to change you in this way? We thought you had died…"

"I did. Can I order my damn lunch now?" Christoffel gruffly spoke, causing the younger man to give a small pout.

"Don't mind him, he's cranky," Shandori quickly informed as heroically idealized images of her scoundrel of a companion began flowing like a ribbon on the wind in her mind. "Please tell me he rode around on a white horse and had shiny pale armor and stuff right?"

"Actually yes. His horse was a fine, high-bred mare named…um…wait I know this-"

"Her name was Firefly-wait, why the hell am I talking to you?" Christoffel stopped himself from engaging further as the waitress finally arrived to take his curt order of a roast beef sandwich and ale.

"T-That's right! And she had battle armor which matched the winter snow…but in the few glimpses I managed to get of Lord Dawnblade, I saw flowing waves of blonde hair beneath his helm…" Flavius recalled with a slight blush.

Shandori cast a soft look to the visibly agitated blood elf as he looked about the hectic restaurant for their waitress. Neither could see the layers of tragedy that marked Christoffel's sorted past but both ignorant elves seemed to sense better than to continue the conversation.

"Well while I'm sure Chris…Narlyn is really flattered to have such a huge fan singing his praises, we've got a big day ahead of us tomorrow and we're both kinda hungry..."

"O-Oh of course, I'm terribly sorry. I really do appreciate you taking the time to indulge me. I-I've just aspired to be as great as the Dawnblade brothers since I was a boy. I never dreamed I'd ever meet one," Flavius gushed. Shandori waved as Flavius quickly stood, gave a firm salute to his childhood hero and half-scampered off to tell the other young recruits of his discovery.

Shandori smiled at his back as the sensation of dagger-eyes stabbing her form brought her attention back to the scowling Christoffel.

"What? Oh come on, that was too cute. I wish I had fans, 'Lord Dawnblade.'" Shandori admitted with a laugh.

"Don't call me that," Christoffel spoke with a warning tone. Shandori cast him a concerned look as his reddened face came to rest in both hands. "Thanks to twinkle-toes everyone's going to find out I'm not dead. Who the hell knew my old na-fucking Han! He did this," Christoffel furiously accused.

"What's the big deal-"

"Some spoiled little girl with nothing to lose and something to prove wouldn't get it, so just stop talking," Christoffel's misdirected, venomous words seemed to cause the night elf to flinch as if viciously wounded. Christoffel's fel-agitated vision softened as he quickly apologized. "S-Sorry…"

"You know what? I don't need your shit; I have dragons to kill. You got to be somebody once, and hearing all that I got a bit jealous, you know? But what do I know? It's not like I ever got to be a hero, someone little kids could look up to. It's not like I was worth telling all that to, right? I mean I thought we-whatever, you can have fun wallowing in your own angsty bullshit, alone," Shandori spoke with trembling emotion as the warmth she exhibited only a moment before seemed to drain from her form.

Though many insults from family had clouded her hearing over the years, Shandori could always deftly deafen herself to the horrible noise and reply with a smirk or a quip. Christoffel's remark, though explainable in her quick and reasonable mind, seemed to not only come in clear but echo in her skull. She quickly stood and wordlessly walked away.

"D-Dori! I didn't-shit," Christoffel cursed, tossing a few gold coins on the table just as his warm, tasty sandwich was delivered. His pleading words didn't seem to reach the night elf, whose own wounded heartbeat thundered so loudly, she could hear nothing else. Though they were merely business partners in name, the wordless feelings that seemed to flow between them appeared to give her false illusions.

The trembling woman seemed so solid beneath layers of plate armor, that her pursuer didn't notice the small tears that began to form beneath a furrowed brow. Shandori didn't bother to wipe the salty tear that obscured her sight as she cursed her weakness and did her best to lose herself and her perceived betrayer in the thick crowd.

* * *

Christoffel felt his breath burn as he deftly swam through the river of people. Though she was fleet-footed, Shandori's well-worn and clanking armor worked against her during her pained escape. Her long, indigo hair acted as a constant flag, waving the rogue in her direction. She came to a small area where grass and goldenrod grew just outside a circular street filled with shops and services and exited the street. She walked towards a small but sturdy tree and leaned against its smooth body.

Christoffel sunk into the shadows and watched as small tears fell onto her violet cheeks but were quickly wiped away. His heart nearly leapt into his throat at the sight. He carefully walked closer, slowly emerging from the shadows as the soft sound of a crying mouth caused his own eyes to hold a small, wet shine.

"D-Dori?" He softly, gently called. The rogue's eyes shot open as the vulnerability so beautifully displayed on Shandori's crying face quickly shifted to a look of hate as a swift, plated fist came in his direction. Christoffel stumbled, back bumping against a sound-wall along the side of the small grassy area, and closed his eyes in anticipation of a black eye, broken nose, or soon-to-be-missing teeth.

He felt a slight, quick breeze come across his cheek as he opened his eyes to see a plated arm beside his face, fist a hair's distance from the wall.

"Y-You missed," he nervously laughed, eyes searching for any of the night elf's usual humor. When he found none, he looked away with a sigh.

"I didn't miss," Shandori spoke with invisible frost flowing from her lips.

"Dori, I'm sorry I-I don't know why I said-"

"Stow it. I know you didn't mean it," Shandori sighed as she backed off, allowing the rogue to stand and exhale the breath he didn't know he was holding. "Maybe we're just spending too much time up each other's asses or something. I've been pissing you off a lot lately and I get it. I'm annoying; sorry I'm not up to your standards-"

"That isn't it at all!" Christoffel shouted, causing a few people around the grassy area to pause and look.

"Well what is it then? Ever since I got back from Wyrmrest you've been acting like an asshole. I mean I just got done defending your ass from that stuck-up twig and you have the balls to say that shit to me? What's been up with you-"

"It's because I...I ah-damn it Dori! Why are you so dumb about this shit? You're a woman, for light's sake! Aren't you supposed to be good at this crap?" Christoffel shouted back. This time Shandori's angry look shifted one to utter confusion as her lips clumsily tried to respond.

"W-What the hell are you talking about, make sense!" Shandori weakly spat. Both were so involved in their shouting match they didn't notice the small but growing, curious crowd forming around them.

"Did you ever stop and think for one freakin' moment that maybe I CARE about what happens to you? That letting you fall was the single worst moment of my miserable life? Thinking about you being dead or picked apart by fish nearly drove me mad-but no, I'm some kind of selfish prick who hates you. Got something funny to say about that?" Christoffel angrily shouted. The look of complete and utter surprise on her deep-purple, blushing face caused the momentary anger and embarrassment within the blood elf to quickly vanish. The crowd, now lard and containing a few familiar faces seemed to wait with bated breath.

"Y-You didn't think that at all, did you?" Christoffel softly spoke with guilt and realization resonating in his voice.

"N-No, I didn't," Shandori spoke with a trembling voice. Christoffel's keen vision began to see the tense walls around the warrior begin to crack as her shining eyes seemed to scour his form for some hint of jest or dishonesty. Christoffel did not wait for her to finish her examination before taking a step closer and speaking again.

"Wh-why? Dori you, you've done more for me than…how could you not see that I," Christoffel struggled to keep his eyes on the night elf before him. He closed them for a moment, doing his best to steady his breathing and find the heroism he was alleged to display so readily in battle. When he opened his eyes again, Christoffel's knees began to turn to quivering jelly as the words clumsily fell from him with a hapless creak.

"I'm mad about you-you brutish, beer-swilling, foul-mouthed, wonderful, beautiful, woman! I never told you about my past because I didn't want you to see me like this, knowing what I used to be and looking at me with disgust or pity! After all that had happened I didn't care if I lived or died because I was so ruined, addicted, and worthless that not even the light wanted me. But you saved me time and again when it wouldn't have benefited you in the slightest. You made me laugh, pulled me from death itself, and made feel like I wasn't too far gone, Dori…" Christoffel's voice, which had been shaky throughout his explanation, gave out.

Shandori quickly wiped the last remnants of hurt from her puffy eyes. She felt something bubbling within, something that occasionally came but she always managed to push down. The emotional wall made of solid self-defeat and built from the bile of her hateful mother, concerned sister, and condescending aristocrats seemed to crumble around them. The wayward night elf's face, form, and the air around her seemed to brighten as the small crowd inhaled in anticipation, seemingly unable to let go until Shandori responded.

"No one's ever said something so nice to me. I mean I've gotten brutish, beer-swilling, and foul-mouthed before, b-but it's never been a compliment, heh. Look at you with disgust and pity? You're a blood elf! Even if your eyes stayed blue any proud, upstanding night elf would have done that," Shandori smiled for a moment with a soft laugh as the rogue before her seemed to squirm in his own skin. "Then again, I'm probably the worst night elf ever, so it works out, I guess. I-Is all this what's been bothering you this whole time?"

"Y-Yes. I tried to tell you sooner but I guess I'm just not the brave hero I used to be," Christoffel looked away, preparing his battered heart for the rejection he'd been anticipating ever since the feelings first gripped him. Shandori took a quick step forward, bringing her face startlingly close to her companion's. She smiled and looked him straight in the eye before shaking her head and softly speaking.

"Christoffel Stingblade, you're a demon-sucking, broody, angsty, moron, and I love you," Shandori snorted as she leaned down to capture Christoffel's lips with her own. She quickly moved her fingers to stroke the side of his strong but tense jaw, coaxing him forward and soothing the obvious tension in his form. The heat between them spread as Christoffel seemingly forgot the trepidation of a moment before and furthered the passionate kiss and carefully brought his hands to rest on the small of Shandori's back.

It was then the crowd erupted in a mix of cheers, gasps, and disgusted looks. Those who found their stomached soured at the sight of such an unusual couple quickly moved to spread the news to Dalaran's tabloids and rumor mills while those who approved found their own hearts bursting with joy by the triumphant moment.

"It's about time!" One among them, a goblin shaman, excitedly spoke to her friend as they linked hands and did a little spinning dance.

"That's so romantic! I think I'm gunna cry," The other, an orange-haired gnome mage, replied with a sniff as the two stopped their excited dance to come together in a friendly hug. None of the noise, good or bad, seemed to reach the pair as feelings that had long been kept within the darkness of their hearts finally flowed between them without fear or worries about what the next day would bring.


	41. Flea 41: Lovesong

**Author note:** So you may have noticed I haven't updated this story in several months; there is a story behind it. To see the long version (and to see what's generally going on in my artistic life) check out the latest post on my blog: oriwhitedeer(dot)blogspot(dot)com.

The short version: rage quit wow. Alliance lore, lore in general was not to my liking and forever jacked up my attention to lore in Straydog Saga. A few months later I Started getting back into it again, was able to write fan fiction again.

**And now without further ado...  
**

**Straydog Saga**

**Flea 41: Lovesong**

* * *

The cool night air was like a soothing blanket on the elves' sweaty, and passion-heated, half-dressed forms. Though the physical barrier of clothing still remained on their forms, the elves' realized love was so intense; it was as if they did not have bodies to bar their souls from one another's bond.

Shandori allowed herself to slip into a light snooze with a rare, soft smile on face as her ears took in the sound of her partner's heartbeat. Christoffel gave a small, smiling sigh as his hand idly stroked Shandori's blushing cheek. His hair hung unbound and was long enough to reach Shandori's fingers, which were slightly tangled in the ebony tresses.

He looked to out the window, keen hearing picking up the sound of cheerful voices and lively music a small distance away.

He slowly turned his attention back to the shifting woman in his arms as his eyes grew a little softer. Shandori opened her eyes with a sleepy snort as her face contorted into a hideous yawn. She blinked a few times before nuzzling deeper into the space between her companion's arm and chest.

"You smell like shit," Shandori lovingly, sleepily spoke causing Christoffel to roll his eyes.

"That's you're fault, miss molester. I took a bath before bed, you know?" Christoffel informed.

"Yeah, I know; I was there." Shandori gave sly smile as she cast her lover a smug glance as her hand moved to gentle tug on her lover's long mane. Christoffel leaned into the action and found himself pulled into a long, passionate kiss.

"Indeed," Christoffel slowly broke the kiss and breathlessly spoke. His eyes shifted from loving contentment to slight doubting disbelief as Shandori's own blushing smile slightly faltered.

"Something wrong?" Shandori asked as the momentary look of doubt quickly morphed into an amused grin.

"Nothing, for once," Christoffel softly spoke as he brought a gentle hand to cup the side of Shandori's face. The rough scars on Christoffel's callused hand barely registered as the beautiful star vision that captured his own brought a hint of something long buried back into his marred heart.

The feeling began to swell as evidence of its presence rose to shine in his fel-tainted eyes. Though his pride and his lips would not bring words to the feeling, his partner seemed to playfully smile as she learned forward to confirm her suspicion with a full-lipped kiss. Her lips spoke without fear or restriction in her steady voice.

"Love ya, demon sucker."

"Hmm, is that right?"

"Yeah, maybe even more than money."

"Wow, I should be so honored," Christoffel laughed as he brought her arms around her thin-clothed form and pulled her a little closer.

There was a moment of calm silence between them as the blood elf's gaze returned to the light-hearted noise that came in through their window with the night breeze. Christoffel felt a cold, sinking feeling in his chest as thoughts of the coming dawn filled his mind with wretched images of death and suffering.

Shandori felt her companion tense as she lifted her head to give him a questioning look.

"Is something eatin' you?" she asked with a raised brow. Christoffel didn't answer; instead, he shook his head and turned to give his love a quick but passionate kiss. He paused for a moment to cast her a worried look before replying.

"I don't want to be a hero again, and I don't want you to become one either," Christoffel spoke with grim implication between his words.

"Uh, what?" Shandori watched as Christoffel shifted, pulling himself away for a moment to sit up against the headboard of their double bed. Shandori followed, moving to rest her hand on his shoulder and give him a slight squeeze to continue.

"Now that things have changed…I don't want to loose you, not after what happened at Mydrassil-I can't go through that again. I mean, haven't we done enough?" Christoffel thought out loud, earning him a quiet, smirk-lipped laugh.

"Well you might not be a hero anymore, but you got the girl. I'm more than happy to ride off into the sunset and blow this stupid battle off, red dragons be damned!"

"Isn't this the part where you give me some uplifting speech about heroism and duty and…you're right, who am I talking to?" Christoffel gave a rare, hearty laugh, an action that caused Shandori's face to melt from its usual smugness into one of gentle, loving softness.

"Hey now, you're the one who loudly confessed his innermost feelings right smack in the middle of a busy Dalaran park," Shandori spoke in a wistfully voice and batted her eyelashes. The action caused an almost-wincing smile to come to the blood elf's face.

"Yes, yes, I did," Christoffel spoke as the pair leaned into a kiss and returned to a prone position. As the two continued on, the first hints of dawn, though as bright as it always was, barely seemed to touch them as they drifted further into one another.

They continued with curious, playful exploration as their hands and hearts connected in disrobing, consummative joy. When their energy was spent, Shandori and Christoffel still lingered in one another's arms as they blissfully sank further into their plush pillows.

They lingered in calm, shared silence as the sun fully rose into the morning sky. Shandori exhaled with a happy sigh.

"We'll need another bath, probably separately this time," Shandori suggested, causing Christoffel to give a smiling nod as she shifted to sit up.

"We don't have anywhere to be, right? Stay a while," Christoffel softly implored as he reached to pull his lover back into his arms. Shandori's usual, indomitable will was seemingly absent as she allowed herself to return to Christoffel's embrace.

"Mmm, yeah, let those heroes handle this. I say we villains head back to Booty Bay and find us another job- an EASY, non turning-into-grand-adventure-saga kind of job; just the two of us," Shandori yawned.

"Sounds good," Christoffel smiled. "Though you must admit, it has been quite a ride."

"Yeah, remember when we were attached by that warlock bitch—what's her face? Kesha or something? You nearly overdosed…I was pretty scared," Shandori admitted. Christoffel smiled and gave her back and shoulder a little squeeze.

"Yeah, that was a pretty horrific trip, but thinking about you got me through it," Christoffel confessed earning him a smile and a rolling of Shandori's eyes.

"Yeah well, not to continue the mush fest but having you around always made me feel better. Like when my mom decided to lay into me that one time. She always had a knack for making me feel worthless."

"Sounds pretty familiar," Christoffel mused as images of his adoptive father's cold stares and indifferent shrugs as his accomplishments rose in his mind.

"Yeah well, it's good to know at least one other person knows what it's like, you know…hey remember that first really big-money job we did?" Shandori asked with a slight snarky smile.

"Which one?"

"The one with the dragon bones in the temple?"

"Oh yeah, the start of all this; I remember. We picked up quite a bit of gold and our tusked pet that day," Christoffel confirmed as a joined, jarring thought sparked in both their minds. The image of a small, young, scared form seemed to assault them as her terrified shrieks brought both elves into a fully alert state. They stared at one another as the shared thought caused both pairs of eyes to widen into fright and worry.

"Ima!" they shouted as all sleepiness seemed replaced by urgency and vigor. They leaped from their beds, and began reclaiming their carelessly tossed clothing.

"That kid'll be torn to pieces if we aren't there to protect her blue ass!" Shandori frantically spoke, as she splashed some of the water from a pitcher on the table beside the bed onto her sweaty form before beginning to dress. She nearly kicked through her own boot while attempting to put it on. While the urge to tease his beloved rose in Christoffel's throat, his own compassion for the young, kind-minded girl overtook his concentration.

"She's too distracted by maintaining her gnome persona; she won't be able to focus on the battle—Booty Bay will have to wait," Christoffel gave a hissing sigh as he moved to bind his black mane into his usual high ponytail.

"Ughhhh. When did we become such freakin' softies?" Shandori jokingly cursed as she wriggled her fingers in her gloves. Christoffel did not answer as he fastened his belt and began scanning the floor for any last, forgotten items.

"We'll ponder that later, we need to get going if we're going to make the airship," Christoffel informed as the pair gave one last look to their comforting bed before rushing with fleet feet toward the rendezvous point at Krasus' Landing.

* * *

Deep beneath the snowy wastes of Eastern Dragonblight, within a small, darkened chamber, several violet dragons and their lingering Twilight minions gathered before their stone-faced leader.

The most powerful among the group sat before a large, magic-made map of the area and seemed to ponder the red marks on its surface. His scowling maw slightly twitched as one among his draconic brood took a step forward and cleared his throat with a guttural hack.

"M-My leader, we…"

"Get on with it. What is your report?" Dargonax spoke with a menacing tone that was more than enough to send chills down the other dragon's spiny back. The slightly shivering dragon swallowed before finding his voice again.

"My leader, we've moved the bulk of our air and ground forces to Icecrown as you asked. We met…resistance from the mortals. Even now, they are storming our southern perimeters and have taken back Star's Rest." The quick-breathing dragon tapped his front claw on one of the red dots on the map before swallowing again and returning to a more falsely-proud stance.

Dargonax snorted and dismissively waved his front claw, eyes fixed on the map before him.

"Don't worry, I sent a battalion of drake riders to face the mortals in the south. Steinaxion will not fail me…" Dargonax decreed, not looking up to see the looks of horror and panic on the faces of his subordinates. They looked to one another as if trying to find who would tell their dear leader the grim news.

The dragon who spoke trembled, unable to look at his towering leader as he slowly, hesitantly spoke.

"M-My leader…Steinaxion…" he tried to speak, but he found the words unable to escape his trembling maw. Another violet dragon took a step forward and quickly spoke.

"Steinaxion did not bring the drake riders as you instructed. He thought he could handle the mortals himself-he perished late last night at their hands," the other dragon informed. One could have heard the smallest pebble drop in the thick air as Dargonax's eyes went wide. One of his eyelids gave a slight twitch as he raised a claw, trembling with anger, and placed it on the map in front of him.

His neck slightly twitched as he slightly rolled his right shoulder before speaking in a tone that would have stopped the hearts of the weak.

"Twilight Generals, stay. The rest of you-get out of my sight," he growled as those prescribed to leave by their terrifying leader more than enthusiastically obeyed. When the last of the cowering supplicants left the silent space, Dargonax slammed his claw on the map and addressed his generals with a booming voice that echoed in the subterranean bunker.

"YOU FOOLISH WORMS! WHAT DO YOU MEAN HE THOUGHT HE COULD VANQUISH THEM ON HIS OWN! I GAVE A DIRECT ORDER! DO MY GENERALS THINK THEMSELVES SO WISE AND GREAT THAT THEY DISREGARD MY WILL!"

"M-My leader, he was only-"

"HE WAS OLNY WHAT! DISOBEYING A DIRECT ORDER! ALL THE TIME OF BREEDING HIS WORTHLESS HIDE AND PREPARATIONS WASTED! I set aside the battalion just for that purpose-where are they now?"

"S-Sent to the north, my lord."

"To the north! TO THE NORTH?" Dargonax raged as he brought his claw smashing down on the magic-made map, causing it to shatter and turn into a pile of spent lavender sand. "You allowed that idiot to send our forces north, when the mortals and their vermin dragon pets usurp us from the south? Have they made it into the caverns?" Dargonax paused, mind frantically trying to grasp some escape, some plan that would turn his generals' missteps to his advantage.

"Yes sir—but we're holding!"

"Hah! You merely slow them down. It would be only a matter of time before they reach our inner sanctum. I did not slip through the cracks in time, escape death only to have it served now. No, I will not. You four-recall the battalion and bring them back to the Old Kingdom. Gather the drakes, advance any eggs you can and hatch them. We will squash this ant army, and Azeroth will no longer suffer their wretched presence!" Dargonax declared.

His generals bowed low before departing to carry out their leader's terrible orders. All the while, the brooding Dargonax schemed, eyes darting to and from the halls that used to house the Nerubian kings. He snarled a moment before angrily striking a crumpled, toppled pillar, sending his fury and ancient dust into the chilly air.

* * *

Ima shivered from more than just the cold. Standing around her were students and other agents of the Kirin Tor, many of whom had been in her classes. Though her body appeared to be as small as any other gnome teen, she crouched and did her best to stay blended into the gathering troops.

Her blood seemed to freeze when a familiar voice called to her through the humming sound of the chatting crowd.

"Good morning, little miss! Long time no see, eh?" a gruff but cheerfully melodic voice spoke as Ima turned with wide blue eyes to see its owner. The familiar black-furred worgen woman, covered in mail armor and carrying a large gun, smiled with pointed yellow teeth as she moved to scoop up the gnome and give her a fur-lipped kiss on both cheeks.

"C-Cici! Hello again! Did you dye your fur a new color?" Ima spoke with nervousness shaking through her trembling form.

"I so did, thanks for noticing! Fawn fur was sooo Cataclysm-era." Cici perked for a moment before giving the gnome-troll a concerned look and placing her back on the ground. "But you're shaking! Do you need a thicker cloak?" the hunter, known to Ima as Cici Millan, the pet whisperer, asked. Ima quickly shook her head.

"No just, just a bit nervous is all," Ima spoke with a half-truth laced in her words.

"There, there, little thing! You got your best friend Cici with you now, not need to worry, ah? Me and Mercury, we gunna take good care of you," Cici enthusiastically informed. Ima gave her a questioning look before speaking.

"Mercury? What happened to Inverno?" Ima asked, referencing the white leopard with a frigid blue mouth that she'd become accustomed to seeing whenever Cici would appear. Cici nodded for a moment and gave a little whistle. With an echoing, metallic roar, a massive, hunched cat with liquid mercury for skin and glowing ruby eyes cut its way through the crowd and appeared at Cici's side.

"Inverno is a wonderful pet, there's no question, but for this battle, Mercury is the best man for the job, aren't you, yes you are!" Cici spoke, her voice changing to a babyish tone in the latter part of the sentence.

The mercurial cat growled and smacked its lips together before hungrily turning his attention to Ima. Despite the hungry look from Cici's pet, Ima felt a measure of relief fill her. Her reasoning found that though Cici was a perceptive hunter, her lack of magical awareness would not endanger the mage's carefully crafted costume.

But just as her breathing slowed and the tension that wracked her tiny frame seemed to disappear, another voice came, one that nearly stopped her heart. She turned in horror to see two of her classmates, a boyish looking human girl and a blonde-haired and fine-robed high elf, bounding towards her.

"F-Finley, Blodwyn, what are you doing here!" she gaped as her two roommates moved to stand in front of her.

"Same reason you're here, I reckon: joining the effort, of course. We can't just sit here and let those nasty Twilights threaten Dalaran, can we?" Finely spoke with an affirming nod. The high elf beside her rolled her eyes and looked with annoyance to her perfectly manicured nails, which would surely be marred.

"Y-Yes, of course. Where's Herold?" Ima inquired about the fourth member of her small group of friends, as the other two didn't seem to notice anything amiss with her gnomish form.

"He's on break, his pa was sick and had to go help with the farm a while. We'll get to meet up with him when the new term starts, if we survive," Finley informed. "Archmage Diver and Gawain are here too; they're already getting into formation, I think."

"Think we'll be heading out soon, then?" Cici asked, polishing the barrel of her gun with a worn rag. Finely nodded.

"I think so, but I think there's still another airship coming; it's what I heard anyway," Finely shrugged, eager young hands were itching with spellbound intent.

"M-My friends will be on that airship, I bet. You'd like them: they're very interesting people," Ima commented as the group seemed to struggle to keep their anticipation in check.

"I HATE waiting on slow people. I mean honestly, we have a glut of mages and I know there are warlocks around; couldn't we have just ported everyone here?" Blodwyn huffed as she crossed her willowy arms.

"I told you, not everyone likes magic. You expect a paladin to use a portal from a warlock?" Finely rolled her eyes. "So how about these friends of yours, Ima? Are they studying at Dalaran too? Do I know them?"

"N-No, I met them on break, they're…interesting, heh," Ima spoke, unable to find a better adjective. She was unaware of a pair of long, purple, priestly ears nearby, which had been idling picking up on the conversation. "Shandori is a real trip, and Christoffel can be kinda scary at times, but he's pretty kind once you get to know him."

"Christo-fel?" Blodwyn asked with a raised brow, "Please tell me you're not associating with THEM again."

"Give it a rest, will ya?" Finely hissed.

"Well Christoffel isn't really a blood elf, he just got addicted to fel magic. I think he was forced or something because he doesn't seem to want anything to do with them. Besides, if he and Shandori can get along so well-let alone be in love-why can't I have him as a friend?"

"Oh wait, I think I heard about that—a blood elf and a night elf were making out in the park or something, was that them?" Finely asked with whispered Dalaran gossip fresh in her mind.

"Heehee yeah, it was SO romantic—you kind of had to be around for the build-up, but trust me, it was a long time coming. I'm so happy for them; it makes me wanna giggle just thinking about it," Ima chirped, her anxiety and trepidation seemed to flee despite the gaggle of mages and other magic-users amassed around her.

The idly listening night elf priestess tensed at Ima's words, doing her best to further home in on the conversation while still providing the usual smiles and nods to her chattering priestess fellows.

"Gross!" Blodwyn shuddered with a sour expression. Finely gave her a scolding look.

"Um, given YOUR circumstances, little miss 'tail-chaser', I don't think you have any room to judge," Finely scolded with a knowing, wise expression on her young face. Blodwyn attempted to shoot a snide word or any manner of comeback to the reference to her own blue-skinned and hoofed beau, but she felt the words choked from her lips as they closed with a huff.

"Anyway, it looks like they're getting everyone in line," Ima informed as the wind around them seemed to be picking up. The group looked above to find two airships, one from the Alliance and one from the Horde, getting into drop-off position. With guns stowed, the two airships hovered a moment before a series of flying beasts began delivering the final batch of heroes to the battle formation.

Ima's excited blue eyes scanned the skies for any sign of the pair of elves she had so fondly spoken of. Despite her confident words, the last of the beasts touched down, none of them bearing the colorful personas of Shandori and Christoffel.

Ima heard a bitter snort from behind, and turned to find a night elf priestess with her own snide vision turned skyward. The woman could have been Shandori in much older skin in Ima's sight as the little gnome froze for a moment in wonder. It wasn't until Finely's voice came calling in her small ears that the gnome mage broke away from the scene and walked with heavy feet towards the front.


	42. Flea 42: Dragon Force

**Straydog Saga**

**Flea 42: Dragon Force**

* * *

Shandori could feel the slight rumble in her empty stomach as she and Christoffel ran through the morning crowd. Despite the terrible battle ahead, tourists still seemed to manage to aimlessly wander around the violet, coble-stoned streets without a single care in their mesmerized gazes.

"Watch it!" one snarling orc grunted as Christoffel nearly sent the vacationing peon to the ground with his armored shoulder. The elf didn't so much as look at the perturbed peon as he continued with his companion in the direction of Krasus' Landing. The revving sound of engines caught in Christoffel's ears as his steps seemed to hasten in reaction.

"We're not going to make it!" he shouted as his quickened pace brought him slightly past his partner, whose breath seemed to labor as she drug her plated boots to match Christoffel's pace.

"Why?" Shandori found herself shouting over the sound as the wind began to blow loose strands of her indigo hair from her flushed face. They reached the entrance to Dalaran's main landing deck and rushed up the steps to find the disheartening sight of a massive Alliance airship pulling back its boarding planks and pulling away from the edge of the deck.

"Light damnit!" Christoffel half shouted, half panted as he watched the massive airship float away like storm cloud towards the Dragonblight.

"Well shit, what now?"

"I don't know—we could try and catch a flight?"

"Sorry, but all flights to the area are being redirected…" another voice interrupted. The pair turned to see a beautiful but sad-faced high elf walking towards them. Shandori instantly recognized her former steward, the red dragon Katastraza, as she moved to stand beside them with a sigh. "Running late too, eh?"

"Y-Yeah, overslept," Shandori lied with a nervous laugh.

"S-Same," Kat looked away with a blush. Her mind painfully twitched as she remembered the somber bereavement letter she was duty-bound to deliver to her commanding officer carefully placed in her magic-made belongings. "But we'll have plenty time for idle chat later, luckily for you two I have a way to get us there quickly."

"Oh?" Christoffel asked as his eyes began to marvel at the young woman's sudden transformation. Her body swelled until an adult red dragon stood before them. Her presence sent some of the less brave flying mounts around her into a fearful frenzy. She looked to the frightened animals with a snort and motioned for her companions to accompany her.

"Are there snacks on this flight?" Shandori joked as she moved to mount the red-scaled steed. Kat snorted again and jokingly licked her maw.

"Yes: you! Now hold on tight, we're up REALLY high, and the winds can be a bit tricky," Kat commanded as Christoffel moved with shaking hands to grip two of the large spikes that protruded from the sides of her back. With a grunt and a large gust of wind, Kat took off, bringing her burdens towards the dread battle in the Dragonblight.

* * *

Orifiel took a deep breath as she looked to the darkened entrance to what was Azjol'Nerub. The insect-like creatures that once dwelled within had all but vanished since the Lich King's incursion ended. Even the allies of mortals had fled to other, safer lands since the violet dragons deposed them, and made their ancient city their new rallying point.

She was not wearing the pure, light-bathed robes that typically draped her person. Instead, indigo, black, and violet vestments were her garb of choice, and even the shadows that lingered in the resting place of her kind seemed to drape themselves around her like a sinister cloak. Still, the deep indigo cowl bore a shining enchantment that formed a dimly glowing halo in the midst of the clinging shadows.

She turned to look at her son, who for once in his life seemed to hold no joking glee behind scheming eyes. Instead, he looked more like an adult in her eyes than he ever had, standing straight with a serious crease in his usually smirking lips.

"We may not come out of this alive, my son. Do you think your father will forgive us?" Orifiel spoke with a barely-steady voice. She cleared her throat and did her best not to tremble in front of her only son.

"We'll make them pay, mother; I swear it," Trenton affirmed, making no movement to chastise his mother for the seemingly grim statement.

"Oh, of that I have no doubt. Though if you were to return to his side, you would not love him any less than I for avenging him," Orifiel offered. Her eyes held neither sorrow nor shame as her son sighed and shook his head.

"What kind of male would I be if I let my mother do all the fighting for me? We will see justice is done, together," Trenton nodded, offering his hand to his mother and now commander in the mortal gesture of respect. Orifiel gave her son a small smile and firmly accepted the gesture with a strong grip.

"Are the champions ready?" Orifiel asked with a bit more spirit in her voice, earning her a quick and firm nod.

"Yes, the last airship has just offloaded the last of our recruits. They await your command," Trenton informed. Orifiel turned from her son and did her best to ignore the sensation of a stone slowly growing in the pit of her stomach. She could not place where the feeling was coming from, whether the battle or something else not yet known to her. She shook her head and turned to Trenton once more.

"No matter the outcome, justice will be done," Orifiel nodded as she moved to mount her gifted Crimson Deathcharger and led her steed back in the direction of her gathered forces. Trenton returned to his draconic state and flew overhead, keen vision seeing the sizable force that his mother now commanded. He counted several hundred more than the list of names accounted for as more noble souls found out about the effort and decided to join the effort.

While Trenton kept watch from the skies, Orifiel moved to a small hill, facing the gathered force of Shepherds, Silver Covenant, Sunreaver, and other assorted volunteers. The lesser-battled folk marveled at her strange steed, of which they had heard only Archerus Knights ever daring to ride. Orifiel did not dismount as she used her draconic volume to address the crowd.

"Heroes and Champions of Azeroth, HEAR ME!" she shouted, causing all chat and conversation in the crowd to silence. Only the eerie hum of nearby lay lines could be heard before Orifiel spoke again.

"Today, you face a nightmare wrought from the minions of the Old Gods. The twilight dragon, Dargonax, was supposed to perish many years ago, a failed experiment. But through the cracks in time he has escaped death, only to visit it upon us all.

We are tired of death and we are tired of fighting—too tired of fighting each other, let alone forces beyond our reckoning. But we must push on, together! We must right the wrongs of the past and send Dargonax back to meet the fate he has tried to escape. SO SAY WE ALL!" Orifiel shouted with thrilling power in her voice. The crowd shouted their reply: "SO SAY WE ALL" with such enthusiasm and force that the ground below them seemed to rumble at their collective voice.

"Then heroes, gather your courage; we bring the fight to them! FOR MYDRASSIL, FOR AZEROTH!" Orifiel shouted as she turned her steed to charge, hoping beyond hope the roaring crowd would follow.

* * *

Ima struggled to keep her nerves and steps under control, as her tiny legs seemed to impede her from keeping up from her long-legged companions. Her group was towards the back of the massive force, and though the sounds of battle reached them, the smell of acrid flame and mortal blood seemed miles away.

Though Ima managed to stay by her magic-wielding companions, Cici and Mercury seemed ravinously hungry for battle as they made their way with bared fangs to the front of the pack.

As the front line hacked and blew their way into the dark caverns below, Ima began to feel a rumbling beneath her feet. From the ground came writhing, purple tentacles that thrashed and flailed, taking several slow-footed mortals down with each twist and strike. The force hacked and burned the appendages with their fearsome magic, destroying several structures only to have more sprout in their place.

While the front line pushed into the depths, the main group left those towards the rear to deal with the flailing agents of the old gods.

"What's with these—YAA!" Finely shouted as one of the tentacles quickly wrapped it's slick purple body around her waist and began to thrash about like a fleshy rag doll.

"Finely!" Ima squeaked as she launched a massive fireball at the tentacle, but despite issuing a few magical burns, the tentacle continued to whip the human girl around with terrible speed. Blodwyn tried her own arcane-oriented spells but to no avail.

"Help me! I'm gunna hurl!" Finely half cried, half yelled as her body was constantly whipped around with near-terminal force. Ima's brow furrowed as she concentrated. The frigid ground around her seemed to collect more ice as she cast a modified ice-block spell. Instead of her own form being incased in ice, she projected the spell onto the snaring tentacle.

The structure froze in nearly an instant, leaving the nauseous young mage untouched.

"G-Get me down," Finely gasped just before vomiting her breakfast onto the icy snow below.

"GROSS!" Blodwyn sharply shouted with a wrinkled nose before casing an arcane blast. The spell shattered the frozen tentacle, sending Finely plummeting to the floor. Before Finely could hit the ground, however, a nearby priestess cast a levitate spell, bringing her to a gentle hover a few inches away from the ground. It seemed that, unlike the others who had hewn their attackers only to have more sprout in their place, no more tentacles rose from where the shattered pieces lay.

"Well done, ladies! We need to tell the others. Hurry!" The priestess, who strongly resembled Shandori in Ima's eyes, gave a proud, approving nod before turning to shout instructions to the other mages and priests.

Her words did not fall on deaf ears, as one by one, each of the flailing tentacles were dispatched, meeting an icy fate at their determined hands. Though by the time they were finished, more than half of Orifiel's force was well within the darkened, twilit depths. When Ima and her companions finally reached the underground, they were assaulted by images of brutal carnage, both mortal and dragon.

Violet whelps, magically aged and hastily hatched, lay in pools of congealing purple blood, and it seemed many of those who wore the Shepherd tabard faired no better. Massive, draconic guards broke shield and bone with their mighty blows as their roars shook the resolve of those whose trembling knees still managed to hold them up against the counter-assault.

Ima watched the scene as if the images were from the pages of lore, until the splashing of red color on her skin and metallic scent of mortal blood brought reality to her senses. Ima swallowed hard as a familiar pair of glowing cat eyes cut through the horrific scene and tore into the draconic guard with great ferocity. Though only Mercury could be seen through the chaos, Cici's presence in the form of piercing projectiles upon the bodies of their enemies was well represented.

"Stay strong, girls! I am Elune's vessel; as long as I stand, no harm shall come to you," The Shandori look-alike spoke and a soothing, motherly tone. Ima, Finely, and Blodwyn did their best to steady their shaking shoulders as the three tried to focus on their spells while the elder priestess surrounded them with Elune's healing light.

Finely cast a monstrous pyrobast spell, the biggest she'd ever mustered, towards one of the towering, twilight guards. The blow did not seem to have much effect, until the mighty beast fell, off balance, to the ground. Before the dragon guard could get up, it was swarmed by angry mortals with polearms, swords, maces, and any manner of weapon ready to deal the killing blow.

Finely had no time to contemplate her small triumph, however, as more and more violet-scaled monstrosities burst through the tunnel walls.

"Not bad, but let a pro show you how it's done," a squeaky-voiced, male human asserted as a pack of dragonspawn lumbered their way towards them. Finely and Blodwyn turned to the red-robed mage, who they knew as Archmage Romulus' awkward nephew Gawain, with an impatient sneer.

"Oh please, where's your master, teacher's pet? Go back to her side, little lapdog, or you'll get-" Blodwyn started as her words were silenced by a freely loosed pyroblast from Gawain's steady hands. One after another, his fire spells, which would have caused even the most seasoned battle mage to break into a sweat, seemed to burst as easily from his fingers as a sneeze from his nose. "-hurt?"

"That's amazing! Go, Gawain, Go!" Ima cheered as she witnessed one dragonkin after another fell to Gawain's seemingly potent casting. A passing thought of the amazing teen's true heritage as a red dragon sparked in her mind, as a coy, knowing smile spread on her tiny face. Despite her realization, Ima's lips did not reveal the truth, but seemed content to grin at Gawain's impressive display of firepower.

It wasn't until the majority of the draconic attackers fell that Gawain finally paused, nose upturned, seemingly waiting for praise.

"It was nothing, ladies, really," he smugly smiled as he received nothing by hateful and annoyed glares from his classmates, save Ima who seemed to be doing a small victory dance on his behalf.

The priestess among them gave a small, relieved sigh but shook her head at the display.

"We'll have time for all this later, we must press on," the priestess insisted, knowing eyes seeing the youthful inexperience despite the talent they all possessed. The group ceased their momentary celebration and rejoined the rest of the assault. Though the spells they hurled at the Twilight menace caused their fingers to strain, their resolve held. Despite the seemingly waning twilight numbers, an unsettling rumble became more apparent the further they traveled into the vile depths.

"What is that!" Finely shouted as a putrid purple bulge began swelling from the ceiling of the cavern. Soon, many smaller, sticky blobs of gelatinous goo began pulsing from the walls and floor, one nearly sending Ima to the ground. Just as her small form began to tumble, Gawain grabbed her and pulled her to safer ground.

Several Shepherds watched in horror as the putrid goo began to come together, forming a terrifying amalgamation of rot, madness, and slime. The creature shuddered as its slime-dripping slit of a mouth began to slurp and gurgle.

"None sssshall passssss!" it snorted, sending acrid saliva to the ground. A few gasped as the foul substance began eating through the cavern floor like acid. Still, the brave champions readied their weapons or spells and prepared to do battle with the amalgamation.

The creature gave a sickening roar as the first of the Shepherd force began cutting into its side. It brought its slimy appendages down, like a flailing child in a seeming attempt to swat a biting insect. What could have passed as a brow seemed to furrow as hot magic attacks bore into its body but seemed to bounce back at the casters, sending many to the ground and stunning others.

"Nasssssty insectsssss, sspprrraaaaay!" it gurgled as its stomach seemed to lurch. Those standing in front of its putrid maw were treated to acidic spew, as it began to wretch. Those unfortunate mortals caught in the burning vomit howled in pain as their flesh began to boil and melt. The priests, druids, shamans, and paladins who used their abilities to heal rather than harm did their best to heal through the horrific burns, but many more fell than could be saved by their seasoned powers.

When the amalgamation seemed to empty, it began lumbering towards a fresh group of victims. Its clumsy arms swatted at them, sending several to meet their fates along the cavern walls. Those who bore sufficient armor or enchantments seemed dazed but able to recover from the vicious blow.

Ima tried to cast a frost bolt at the beast, only to have it reflected back in her direction. Blodwyn received a similar result when several arcane missiles threatened to not only destroy her, but her fine blue robes she seemed to prize over her own safety. Finely loosed a slow but powerful pyroblast, moving to duck for cover the moment it struck the amalgamation. Despite the other spells being flung back to their owners, the pyroblast seemed to cause a bellowing roar of pain from the violet monstrosity, a sound that seemed to cause a smug smirk to come to her otherwise humble face.

Nothing was said among the group as each of the mages began throwing whatever fire spell they had learned towards the beast; other magic-users who watched display seemed to follow suit. Even the priestess, who carried a wand, began flicking small specks of fire towards the beast as it momentarily cowered in confusion and pain.

"EEENNOUGH!" it bellowed, as it seemed to push a violet wave towards the small group of casters, causing their bodies and lips to freeze. It gave a sinister snort as it cast wave after wave in the direction of any who possessed the ability to produce fire, as magic-user after magic-user froze. Those nimble enough to avoid the waves did their best to keep up an assault but as each magic-user was struck, the attacks seemed to become less and less effective.

The night elf priestess, who was trained in sensing foul magic, gave a small, knowing smile.

"Fear not, children. I can remove the magic that binds you!" the priestess confidently shouted as she quickly began to pray. Ima's eyes went wide and her blood seemed to turn to ice, but her lips were equally frozen as a powerful, cleansing dispel washed over her form. Despite lord Redmane's enhancement, the elder priestess's goddess-imbued prayer seemed to work too well as the small gnome-form began to distort and swell. The night elf priestess' eyes went wide as those around Ima began gasping both for air and in utter surprise.

Before them stood not a young gnome, but a towering, blue-skinned troll with small tears in her eyes.

"What in the name of Wrynn!" Finely shouted as she tried to clear her eyes of the possible mirage before her.

"I-I…" Ima croaked as Gawain pointed with urgency towards the amalgamation.

"LOOK OUT!" he shouted as a crushing arm came crashing overhead. Ima closed her water-drenched eyes and prepared to meet the legendary graveyard spirit as the crushing blow was delivered. Ima could still feel her heart pounding in her chest and the sensation of trembling in her knees. She opened one red-orange eye and then the other to see looks of both shock and triumph in her companions' faces. She quickly turned to see a lone, plated figure with her shield holding back the killing blow.

"Damn it, Ima! Get your head in the game-I won't always show up just in time to save your blue ass!" the familiar voice of Shandori grunted as she gradually pushed up on the amalgamation's arm. With a roar and a strong, upward push, she sent the amalgamation backwards.

"MISS DORI!" Ima shouted in relief and gratitude as she felt a silent shadow brush against her arm. The shadow crept closer to the amalgamation and delivered several venomous blows before fully exposing his blood-elf form.

"Sh-Shandori-what are you doing here?" Iona spoke, dumbstruck expression on her usually calm face.

"We don't have time to chat, mother, or have you forgotten we're fighting a monster here!" Shandori bitterly spat as Ima nodded with new determination in her young eyes. No longer concerned with appearances, Ima cast a mirror-image spell, causing not one but four trolls to launch devastating fire spells towards the amalgamation.

As more and more casters were dispelled, and more and more firepower was launched its way, chunks of congealed goo began falling to the ground, as it seemed to struggle to hold itself together. Shandori felt a rage boil within her that she never felt, not even for her most hated enemies. The vision of the nearly crushed Ima seemed to bring the white-hot feeling to the surface. She placed her shield on her back and took up two large axes once carried by a fallen Shepherd. As the feeling began to spill over, Shandori's vision seemed to blur until she saw nothing but red.

"IT'S FUCKING ON!" she shouted as her words began to skew into unintelligible rage. She charged the amalgamation, cutting, slicing, jabbing, and ripping at its frame. She couldn't feel the acidic spew that flowed from its putrid lips as it burst onto her frame, nor could she feel the soothing bubble of light that surrounded her. Iona seemed to focus all of her prayers on her wayward daughter as her bottled rage began hewing the beast, piece by foul piece.

Christoffel smiled in amusement as his own vicious cuts became more frenzied as the metallic-looking feline beside him seemed to roar in approval. It wasn't until the amalgamation toppled and dissolved into a massive puddle of puss and slime that Shandori's rage waned. Though she still gripped her borrowed axes with lavender-white knuckles, her breathing evened as she felt her fondest companion stroke her arm. She turned to see Christoffel with a look of pride in his eyes mingled with something a little more suggestive.

"Remind me never to piss you off before bed," Christoffel joked, causing all anger and tension to flee from Shandori's form.

"Nah, bet you'd like it-you freak," Shandori gave a caring nod as the cheers that echoed in the cavern finally registered. Despite the 'good job's' and grateful pats on the back, Shandori's attention drifted back to Ima, who, though triumphant and equally worthy of praise for her casting in the warrior's mind, stood there like a guilty child among frowning and disgusted faces.

"Let's go Finely. We need to help the REAL Kirin Tor mages progress," Blodwyn snorted, betrayal and hurt evident in her truthful eyes despite her words. Finely's gaze seemed filled with similar sentiments as the pair pressed on with the uninjured Shepherds.

"I'm going to go make sure they're safe. Once we get out of here…we'll chat," Gawain soberly and knowingly offered as he moved to follow the two teen mages. Ima stood there trembling before Iona, who looked to her with confusion and suspicion, as a plated hand gently came down on the troll's shoulder.

"You did fantastic, kid; but next time, leave the gnome costume at home," Shandori offered with a smile. Ima turned with a sniffle to her companion, who offered her an unusual look of caring and understanding. Iona's jaw slightly hung as she watched the then sobbing troll reach to her rebellious daughter for a hug. She watched as that same daughter who had been a constant source of embarrassment and shame reached to return the gesture, soothingly stroking the grieving troll's back with a nervous smile.

"Come on now, we'll have plenty of time for crying later when we ALL make it out here alive, alright?" Shandori spoke with a firm tone. Christoffel grunted with affirming agreement despite his usual doubts.

"A-Alright miss Dori," Ima sniffled as she reached to wipe her tears with the back of her trebling, blue hand.

"We should get going: we don't want to get separated and picked off," Christoffel offered, causing a nod of agreement to follow from the three who lingered with him. Christoffel and Ima began running towards the rest of the group as a small pause seemed to halt both Shandori and Iona's steps.

"Y-You really care for those two, despite them being our sworn enemies?"

"Now isn't the time. We kind of have a dragon to kill-"

"I…misjudged you," Iona offered with a slightly apologetic lowering of her head. Shandori seemed utterly dumbstruck.

"Whuuuut?"

"When I heard you were traveling with Horde, I thought it was to spite me, to shame me by joining the enemy. I didn't think you capable of compassion or thinking of anyone outside yourself-but these people, you care for them, don't you," Iona asked with a trembling voice.

"More than you probably care to know, why?" Shandori spoke with urgency and annoyance in her tone as she glanced behind her to the force that seemed to be getting further and further away. Iona shook her head.

"We'll talk later, if you're willing. I must stay here and help the injured. Take care, my daughter," Iona spoke with sadness and shame in her tone. Shandori loudly groaned in frustration and shook her head without a word as her plate boots carried her as fast as they could towards the rest of the assaulting group.

* * *

**Author's Note:** _We're coming close to the end of our story folks. Just a few things to bare in mind: I'll be taking a little longer to complete the story because I want to make the end to this several-year long project one that you'll really enjoy and justifies the hours/days/months of your life it took to read. If you want to read something in the meantime, check out my other WoW fanfics and my original novel "The Red Thread Tapestry" located on my fictionpress account (or just google it ;) ). I do other artsy things too which you can find on my blog: .com._

_And as always, getting reviews and comments always motivates me to write, even the bad ones, so please tell me what you think! :)  
_


	43. Flea 43: A Fine End

**_Author's note:_**Hello everyone, long time no see. My editor disappeared so I wont delay the release of this any longer, typos be damned! Enjoy the new chapter and please review :) pestering me to update works!

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**Straydog Saga**

**Flea 43: A Fine Goodbye**

* * *

****The violet scales were flying as blades, spells, and sheer will seemed to cull the mad beasts leading to the Violet Sanctum. Orifiel felt slight pangs in her chest as the occasional scream or death cry reached her keen hearing, but her eyes remained focused on the path ahead. When they entered what seemed like a small chamber from the pathway, Orifiel gasped at the vast space that met them.

Despite being in a cavern, the makers of the old kingdom seemed to dig well, creating a space beneath the fragile earth that could have housed 100 or more fully grown dragons comfortably. They built lavish buildings and, more importantly, a large barrier of an entrance gate. The intricate patterns that marked the gate, only marred by dust and dirt, seemed the only thing the violet dragons did not destroy when they moved in. Orifiel squinted at the towering gate which would have easily fit her and her mate, walking side by side, in their elder dragon forms.

"Is that the way in?" Trenton shouted over the melee, as he sent a fireball crashing into an unfortunate dragon spawn.

"It is, instruct the heroes to keep the dragons off us—I'll need your and Kat's help to break down the gate, I sense a vast magic protecting it!" Orifiel shouted as she looked to her son and the red dragoness, who valiantly fought nearby, before bringing her steed around and making her way toward the solid-looking gate. Kat nodded and followed as Trenton turned to address nearby heroes.

"You heard the lady, fight well friends. Keep them off us while we trash this thing!" he shouted before following. The three mortal-disguised dragons focused fire and temporal energy on the old but steadfast gate as more and more packs of dragonspawn, drakes, and whelps descended on their heroes.

The heroes fought well and hard, but the seemingly endless number of violet-scaled beasts began to overwhelm them.

"Almost!" Orifiel hissed through her concentration, she could see small cracks forming on the reinforced gate's surface, beneath the three dragon's powerful casting. The three dragons could not hear the screams of their soldiers as more and more fell to the violet onslaught. They could not see the number of draconic reinforcements threatening to swarm those tired few that remained.  
The remaining heroes held as long as they could, despite being nearly overwhelmed by the sheer number and power of their foes. Just as it seemed the violet attackers might reach the three dragons, a roar burst from one of the side tunnels leading into the vast chamber. Despite the volume the cheer did not seem to come from the maw of a dragon, but one equally purple in hue.

"COURAGE, DO NOT FALTER!" The voice of Violetina, with the thunderous backing of her force, rushed into the chamber with weapons and spells loosing onto the violet enemies. The usually chipper draenei's face seemed twisted with determination and anger as she sent sharp, bursting bolts of lightning towards a drake that looked to be gnawing on an unfortunate soldier.

"Die ya bastids!" F-bomb grunted as followed suit, hurling a gigantic ball from her steady hands. Despite suffering a vicious wound to her right cheek, F-bomb's resolve seemed unshakable, even as several dragon spawn bore down on her. With a twitch of her dry lips, she send a circle of lightning from her frame, violently hurling the dragon spawn in every direction and even causing a few to be impaled on the jagged stalagmites that littered the space.

All the while, the solid door began to crumble as Orifiel and her companions' magic worked to undo the sinister wards that kept them from their goal. But just as the tide seemed to turn in the mortals' favor, another roar came from one of the larger tunnels. The sound seemed to rattle the Shepherds' bones and cause a chill to spread down their backs. Orifiel felt her heart skip at the familiar sound and resisted the urge to turn her head.

Her keen hearing picked up the sound of bitter cackling and as the owner of the roar emerged her biting voice made Orifiel silently curse herself.

"Foolish pale hag, you thought a few branches and a pair of mortals could contain me forever?" the violet-scaled dragoness, though visibly exhausted from her ordeal at Mydrasil, snorted. She turned her attention to the still-embattled mortals below and sent a bolt of twilight energy hurling towards them. The bolt easily slaughtered foe and friend alike, leaving only a few weakened but still standing victims below.

F-bomb let out a pained cry as she felt her bones crack and skin burn, but still managed to raise her shield in time to be spared any fatal damage; Violetina suffered similarly but also managed to escape death. When their eyes turned to their comrades, both their hearts and shoulders seemed to sink in despair.

"Pathetic! This is the best your mortals can muster? Killing you and your feeble whelp will be as just as easy!" Pashima declared with a mad cackle. Her maniacal, roaring laugh was interrupted by a small but stinging fireball to the side of her maw.

"No, it won't!" a young, human teen declared. Pashima turned to see some of the lagging members of Orifiel's original force finally emerge. The young mage, accompanied by three of her classmates, her dark-robed instructor, a ferocious worgen hunter, a rogue, a warrior, and several others bore their weapons and bravado at the dragon with some fear but determination in their eyes. Pashima gave an amused snort before turning her full attention to the group.

"I suppose the gate can hold a little longer, I'll delight in slaughtering you-foolish rabble. By the twilight eyes of DARGONAX!" Pashima roared as she began her vicious attack. She lunged for the rogue who hadn't had enough time to cloak himself, only to be battered by the lone warrior among them.

"Oh no you don't!" Shandori grunted as she slammed one of her swords into Pashima's maw with all her might. Pashima hissed and turned her teeth to Shandori, who's reclaimed shield was more than enough to bare the brunt of her biting attacks.

"Is that all you got? No wonder they left you behind to rot in that tree. Your mother was an iguana and your father smelt of legion-taint!" Shandori spoke in a sneering, almost childish tone. The words were more than enough to enrage Pashima and keep her fully focused on destroying the source of the silly words, allowing the others to mount their assault. The mages and shamans hurled all manner of elemental might at the violet dragon, pausing only to throw an occasional, blessing or heal to their valiant warrior.

Pashima reared her head and cast a barrage of twilight missiles towards her targets, showering them with brilliant destruction. Many were quick to avoid the missiles, but a few more inexperienced members of the force could only stand there, eyes agape and mouth gasping.

"Blodwyn, look out!" Finely shouted as she shoved her friend out of harm's way. Both fell, suffering a few minor scraped and bruises before getting up again and continuing their casting. The small group seemed to be doing well, as the dragon's vicious strikes seemed to become labored and lackluster. Pashima growled and closed her eyes for a moment as purple lightning began shooting from her wings and back. Violetina's eyes went wide.

"She is trying to pull us into t'twilight realm, we must interrupt her!" She commanded, hurling a shocking frost spell in hopes of slowing the dragon's casting. The hunter's arrow struck the dragon's side with a concussive blow, but still she whispered. It was not until the spell was nearly finished, did Christoffel kick an open would he'd managed to create in her arm did she finally shriek in pain and loose her concentration.

"You'll pay for that!" she roared with renewed resolve and quickened her swipes and bites, nearly swallowing F-bomb in one biting gulp, but the shaman managed to leap to safety just as the teeth came down. Shandori's taunts and insults irritated the dragon's keen hearing and with an annoyed grunt she turned her attention back to the warrior.

Despite the rush the dragon seemed to gain after the painful kick, her arms became sluggish once more. Her eyes clinched closed as a powerful burst of energy came from her body, knocking the mortals back and stunning them.  
"ENOUGH! It is time to end this-"

"I couldn't agree more," a chipper, male voice came from the shadows. Pashima turned to see a small, teen human emerge from his shadowed hiding place. His dark skin and glowing red eyes betrayed his mortal visage, and the bravado and swagger he walked with was as bright and loud as the blinding-white desert garb that adorned his small form.

"Cowardly gnat, come to fight once I've been "softened up" by your friends? I'll enjoy ending you while they watch," Pashima cackled as a ball of violet light began pulling in her wide-open maw.

"If you must," the human shrugged, looking at his gloved hand as if admiring a hidden manicure. The brash human merely stood there, unmoving, with an amused smile on his dark lips. It was then some of the Shepherds were finally coming to, just in time to see the horrific scene.

"No!" one among them shouted as she rushed to the boy's side. The boy's eyes widened in surprise as he felt the slightly taller human collide into him. The action knocked him sideways and into a roll, as Pashima unleashed her violet-colored fireball. Time seemed to move in slow motion as the brave human was consumed in flame, the full force of Pashima's attack raking over her thin, girlish frame.

"FINELY, NO!" Blodwyn cried as Pashima's mouth finally emptied with an exhausted pant. Blodwyn attempted to run to her friend's aid, but a pair of dark-gloved hands, still hot from launching fire spells, firmly gripped her arm, pulling her back. " No, let me go!" she shouted, turning to see the severe, face of her fire-spell instructor.

"Stupid girl!" Holly Diver shouted and tugged the young high elf back and out of harm's way. Tears filled Blodwyn's blue vision as a smoking body hit the ground, unmoving. She stomped down as hard as she could on Holly's foot, causing the pale human woman to curse and let go. Blodwyn ran to her friend's side, disregarding whatever was happening in the scene, and picked up the badly burned mage into her trembling arms. "Finely, Fin…" Blodwyn spoke as she felt streams of tears fall onto her cheeks. Finely wasn't moving, she wasn't breathing, and Blowdyn could feel no heartbeat. She was no longer holding the vibrant farmer's daughter turned mage but only a lifeless shell.

She didn't feel the heat at her back, nor did she see the light of a massive burning boulder fly over her and towards the murderous violet dragon. The boulder struck Pashima in the face, crushing the bones within, shattering teeth, and burning her eyes blind. She roared in pain as the now scowling human-bodied teen glared at her with burning red vision. He dusted off his now slightly dirty garb and moved to stand in front of Blodwyn.

"Finish this worthless whelp, heroes. You've more than earned your kill. I'll tend to the girl," the young man asserted as he turned to kneel beside his fallen rescuer. With rage, hatred, and burning anger, the group of embattled mortals seemed to find new resolve. The crippled dragon could only blindly swipe at her attackers as their assault seemed to double in intensity.

"No, it shall not end like this!" Pashima spoke with fear in her trembling voice as she attempted to take flight. She furiously flapped her wings, but the many holes torn into them by blades and spells rendered her grounded. Shandori moved her blade upward, just as Pashima's head haphazardly came down, plunging the blade into her throat. Shandori grunted and pulled the blade from the dragon's neck, dousing her, Christoffel, and several others in the tainted blood. Those caught in the blood torrent recoiled in pain as the felt their skin and eyes begin to burn. Violetina rushed to send soothing, watery energy to cleanse them, wiping away any chance of corruption or permanent harm.

"Dar-Dargonax!" Pashima weakly called as she finally succumbed to her wounds and fell to the ground with a limp, reverberating thud. When they were sure of her demise, F-bomb and Violetina rushed to heal their bloodied comrades, as Ima, Holly, and Gawain rushed to where Blodwyn crouched, arms still holding their fallen classmate.

"I-Is she…" Gawain started, but the uncharacteristic stream of tears flowing from Blodwyn's vision was enough of an answer. Holly watched on with her usual angry expression, but a small hint of some softer emotion seemed to come to the surface in her reddened cheeks. Ima sank to her knees as she shook her head.

"This…this can't be happening," Ima shuttered as large tears formed in her own ember vision. Blodwyn's gaze turned to the troll in her sight as her eyes full of hurt turned to a vision of pure rage.

"You stay away from her you disgusting troll! You won't get a single damn bite of her!" Blodwyn screeched in accusation, clutching the roasted body to her bosom.

"Blo—I-I'd never! Finely is my friend!" Ima sobbed, bringing her blue hands to cover her eyes.

"She shouldn't have done that," the young man turned to face the small group of mourners, sighed, closed his eyes, and with subtle sadness, shook his head. Blodwyn's white-hot rage sharply turned to the boy as she gently laid her friends body down, stood, and formed pools of arcane energy in her anger-trembling hands.

"You, YOU UNGREATFUL- YOU GOT HER KILLED! I'LL KILL YOU!" Blodwyn shrieked as she brought her hands up to drop a ball of arcane energy on the young man's head. But a pair of strong arms wrapped around her waist and pulled her up and back, causing her to loose her grip on the arcane ball and send it hurling harmlessly behind them.

"LET ME GO!" she shouted as she attempted to kick and elbow Gawain, who maintained his grip on the thin high elf.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you, Loddy—h-he's…" Gawain warned as the dark-skinned young man stood without anger or threat in his neutral face.

"I don't CARE what he is, I'll rip out his entrails and feed them to him!" she cried, as her struggles began to slow until all that remained was a frail, crying young woman. Gawain put her down and pulled her into a comforting hug, as she sobbed into his red robes. He stroked the back of her flaxen hair as his fearful vision turned to the white-garbed boy before him.

"You-what are you doing here?" Holly carefully asked with a hint of fear in her voice, causing the young man to chuckle a little despite the serious scene.

"Nice to see you again, dear one, you and your little red pet," the young man coolly smiled as his vision turned to Gawain, who visibly shivered in his gaze. Before Holly could respond, several more of the healed fighters came to gather around the young fallen heroine.

"S-Sir, when did you get here?" Christoffel, fully cleansed of Pashima's blood, had walked over to where they stood only to see the familiar form he'd dealt with ages ago standing among them. He fell to one knee, and pulled a confused Shandori down with him.

"Why Christoffel how long has it been? Glad to see you're still live-and I've been here the entire time," the familiar young man informed.

"Chris, who's the creepy kid?"

"Dori he's-"

"-We'll have time for proper introductions later. Rise and rest for a moment, I need help get this barrier down," the young human interrupted with a wink to her former employee as he briskly walked to where Orifiel, Trenton, and Kat labored. Orifiel's eyes widened a little in confusion, as another bolt of powerful magic began assaulting the gate before them. With the added power, the large cracks finally gave way, exposing the path to their final goal: Dargonax. Orifiel and her companions turned to the young man with questioning eyes.

"T-Thank you stranger. Who are you, who possesses such raw might?" Orifiel panted, taking a moment to lean on her son's still steady shoulder.

"I am but a humble drake, my lady," the young dragon bowed for a moment with excessive pomp, "One who wishes to remove the abomination that awaits us, personally." Despite the strange feeling welling up in her stomach, Orifiel's mind knew that they had no time for suspicions. The anticipation nearly overwhelmed her senses.

"We welcome the help, young one. I would be honored to have you fight at our side, but Dargonax's death shall be mine," Orifiel informed.

"I wouldn't dream of depriving you of your kill, my lady. I had heard about a black dragon, a corrupted black dragon that still lived. My intent was to end him, but after some silent observation, I was more intrigued by him and his…unconventional family than anything. It would be an honor to aid one capable of quelling the maddening voices in her vengeance," the young man spoke with some measure of sincerity behind his otherwise cunning gaze.

"Good. Please join the remaining champions and aid them however you can, once I catch my breath and they regain their resolve, we shall hunt Dargonax," Orifiel nodded, as the mysterious drake gave another pomp-filled bow and strutted back toward the remaining force.

The looks of sadness and defeat at the loss of his brave savior were apparent in his keen vision. He gave a small sigh and walked toward his former employee whose sore back managed to stand straight in the boy's presence. Shandori gave her companion a mocking look and pointed to him with her thumb.

"What's with him?" she smirked to the dark human who seemed immune to her attempt at humor.

"He knows with whom he speaks, as will you, in time. Come with me, I have some business to discuss with the two of you," the young man politely demanded as he lead the pair of elves into a hidden, secluded crevice in the stony wall. When he was certain they were out of earshot- the young man began whispering his proposition. "I've seen and heard much about you, Shandori Sagesmoke-Christoffel was quite smart in befriending you. Such a skilled, shrewd and…materialistic woman. I have a little job for you, if you're interested."

"Um, isn't this a little inappropriate? I mean we're in the middle of a siege here…" Shandori whispered and motioned with her head to the regrouping heroes behind them.

"Oh-do forgive me, my lady. I thought you might be interested in items of legendary prowess, ones that would fetch an obscene amount in black-market dealings, but if your scruples are burdened by this offer…"

"Now,now,now - no need to be like that. I'll hear you out. What's the job?" Shandori spoke, eyes alight with greedy excitement. The action brought a dark, amused smile to the young human's face.

"There is one among the heroes—a mage named Holly Diver. She is…valuable to me. Ensure she survives the coming battle and I will reward you so handsomely that you will never want for money for the rest of your lives," the young man's outlandish offer seemed to betray the serious expression on his face. Shandori resisted the urge to laugh, but did manage a mocking smirk.

"Um, we're elves. The rest of our lives is a LONG time," Shandori spoke, only to be silenced by Christoffel's elbow to her side. "Ow-what?"

"Worry not, my lady. I know better than to make a false deal with such a mighty warrior. Will a small forward be enough to convince you?" the young offered, pulling out a bulging sack of gold, rare gems, and small trinkets. Shandori's jaw dropped in awe. "Is it too paltry? I know it is rude of me to think such a small amount would sway you, but rest assured the full cache will be far more…abundant. Do we have a deal?" the young human seemingly innocently asked. The false naïveté was something Christoffel had seen before, but the ego stroke was more than enough to make Shandori greedily snatch the cache from the human's grip.

"Wonderful. I'm sure my decision to hire you two is a wise one. We should get back to the others; it appears they're nearly ready to progress," the young man motioned to the main group who sent the dead and wounded to be tended to and the living to an uncertain fate.


End file.
